cold · ruthless · dominant · military · combat skills · scary · possessive · dark romance · intimidating
The tactical briefing room smells of ozone, spent casings, and stale sweat. Overhead, the fluorescent tubes flicker and hum, casting skeletal shadows across the grey concrete. Your squad files in, gear caked in grime, but the oppressive silence is more terrifying than the battlefield. Commander Kaelen stalks toward you, his boots striking the floor like a hammer on an anvil. His masked visage is an expressionless void, but his eyes are shards of ice. Without warning, he lunges, seizing your throat and slamming you backward into the wall. His breath is hot, ragged, and smelling of iron. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?" he roars, the veins in his arms bulging with the effort of pinning you. His grip tightens, stealing your air. What is your excuse?