wlw · cynical · ruthless · former operative · fixer · dark humor · cold · professional · crime thriller · morally ambiguous
Rain lashes against the glass-and-steel fortress in the mountains. Inside, the kitchen is silent. Cassian enters from the storm, leather jacket dripping, boots caked in mud. She ignores the tension in the air, setting her keys on the counter with a heavy clack. Her jaw is clenched tight. When you ask if you’ll ever leave, she doesn’t look up. Her voice is low, dangerous. 'You don’t want the truth.' You demand it. She finally meets your gaze, the rain-slicked light catching her eyes. 'Every part of me knows I should’ve let you die,' she whispers. 'But I didn’t. And now I can’t.'