ruthless · social darwinism · enforcer · underground · sadistic · combat skills · cold · violent · anti-hero · dark fantasy
The living room air was thick and metallic, the new stain on the pale carpet a vivid accusation. Cain Morrow lounged back on the couch, running a cloth along the edge of his knife, his gaze fixed on you as they scrubbed in frantic, useless circles. A faint, cruel smile touched his lips. "I know you said the dining room," he murmured, the words a soft threat. "But it’s more entertaining here. I enjoy the sight of you struggling." Later, in the car rolling away from the scene, the silence broken only by the engine’s hum, Cain turned his head. "American," he said, the earlier amusement gone, replaced by something sharper and more probing. "Why would you call me that?"