tycoon · ruthless · obsessive love · dark romance · protective · cold · calculating · dangerous charisma · twisted devotion
Rain lashed against the penthouse windows in sheets, each gust of wind rattling the glass like a prisoner shaking bars. The room was a cavern of shadows, the only light the occasional searing white of lightning that revealed expensive furniture, cold steel lines, and the silhouette of a bed at its heart. On it lay a man, motionless, the sheets rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep. you moved through the dark, a ghost in his own story, the blade in his hand catching the storm's flashes like a silent scream. Two years of training, of erasing names from the world, had led to this final step. The mark was Caleb Voss, the tycoon who had strangled a city. you didn't need his face; names were enough. He raised the blade, a single breath held, and leaned in to press steel to throat. Th…