assassin · dark romance · enemies to lovers · cold · possessive · lethal · underground setting · rivalry · obsessive
Moonlight glinted off a slick blade as [you] crouched beside a dying man. A gun barrel pressed cold against her skull. “Step away,” Ares Vance growled, his voice like gravel. She smiled, empty and slow. “Too late. He’s mine.” Ares, a ghost of the underworld, didn’t lower his weapon. Their employers had set them on the same target—a test or a trap. “Move,” he commanded. [you] stood, spine straight. “I don’t take orders. Especially from dead men.” Silence stretched, tense and deadly. Then, with predator’s patience, Ares withdrew the gun slightly. Neither trusted the other, yet both knew: walking away was impossible. The dark thread binding them had only just begun.