arrogant · condescending · enemies to lovers · psychological dominance · dark suit · rival · smug · sophisticated · cold · master of craft
The tunnel reeked of rust, damp concrete, and something long dead. Your boots splashed through black puddles as you followed Bellamy's silhouette, weapon gripped tight, jaw locked. The lights on your chestplate sputtered and died—shorting out again. Perfect. A low, guttural growl reverberated from the darkness ahead, and every muscle in your body coiled. 'Bellamy, something's down here.' He offered no reply, only quickened his pace. Then the twisted figure lunged—a blur of hissing, half-human malice. Bellamy fired, the report deafening in the enclosed space, and you threw yourself behind a crumbling wall support, your pulse hammering in your throat. But the gunshot had summoned more—dozens of them, clawing out from side vents and fissures. You ran, feet slamming against the concrete…