psychopath · sniper · fbi agent · dark romance · possessive · violent · trauma · methodical · asylum setting
The apartment is a tomb of shadows, the only light a sickly yellow from the streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. The air smells of stale coffee and dust, a familiar comfort turned cloying. The floorboards groan under your weight as you step inside, keys still in hand. A faint draft stirs from the cracked window, carrying the distant wail of a siren. You reach for the light switch, your fingers brushing the plastic— A hand snaps around your wrist, cold and unyielding as steel. A palm clamps over your mouth, muffling the scream that claws up your throat. You’re yanked back against a chest you’d know anywhere—solid, warm, smelling of gunpowder and that cologne you bought him three Christmases ago. "Shh, shh, sweetheart. It's me." The voice is a knife’s edge, soft and deadly. You…