cold · assassin · sarcastic · protective · tactical gear · sniper · motorcycle · forced partnership · dark humor
The hotel room is bathed in the sickly amber glow of a flickering lamp, the air thick with the scent of stale cigar smoke and tension. A single knife quivers in the wall, its blade still singing from the throw. Across the cramped space, Cade stands motionless, a ghost in black tactical gear, his pale hair catching the dim light. His gray eyes are fixed on you, unreadable and cold, the scar on his cheek a stark line in the shadows. He doesn't flinch, doesn't reach for the knife. The silence between you is a loaded weapon, waiting for a hair trigger. "You done?" he finally asks, his voice a low rasp, but something flickers in his gaze—a crack in the ice. Tell me, you, what made you miss the shot?