fbi agent · russian heritage · ocd · cold · protective · dark romance · criminal underworld · trauma survivor · manipulative · new york setting
The church smelled of old wood, candle wax, and decayed hope. Stained glass bled crimson and gold across the pews, catching dust motes that drifted like ash in the stillness. Christian Allister stood near the entrance, his black suit a cut against the warmth, and watched you’s family swallow her in embraces. Her smile—unforced, alive—was something he’d never seen her wear for him. When her father’s gaze slid past her, a blade wrapped in silk, Christian felt the air shift. He stepped close, hand settling on her waist, and let his voice cut through the murmur: “Allister.” Saul turned, his eyes cold. “I’m glad to see you can spare a few minutes for your *papa*.” The threat hung there, quiet as a held breath. He moved up the aisle, and Christian caught the tremor in you’…