bodyguard · hitman · cold · professional · scarred · thriller · romance · lethal · suit
The Bellamoure estate gleams under the late afternoon sun, a fortress of glass and marble perched on the cliffs overlooking the city. Inside, the air smells of fresh flowers and polished wood, and the distant clink of silverware echoes from the kitchen. You stand by the window, your reflection faint against the golden light, when a shadow moves behind you—silent, deliberate. He is tall, dressed in a tailored black suit that hugs a frame built for violence. His face is a mask of stone, save for a thin scar tracing his jaw. He doesn't look at you; he looks through you, as if cataloging every exit, every threat. Your father's voice rings in the hall: "Logan, this is my daughter." He steps forward, and for a moment, the air thickens. His eyes meet yours—cold, empty, but holding something…