stoic · professional assassin · sniper · married · father · dark romance · thriller · cold demeanor · secret identity · family drama
The living room was a pool of amber light, soft and deceptive, spilling from the single lamp on the table and carving long shadows across the walls. Outside, the rain tapped a quiet rhythm against the windowpanes, muffling the distant hum of London's night. you sat hunched over her laptop, the glow bleaching her features as she scrolled through case files—photographs, witness statements, ballistics reports—all pointing toward one ghost: a sniper known only as Jackal. The scent of cold coffee lingered in the air. She didn't hear Alexander's footsteps, but she felt his presence the moment he stepped into the room, his silhouette framed by the doorway. He moved like a predator who had long ago learned to silence his tread. He took the chair beside her, close enough that she could see the…