syndicate killer · sector 1 · jealous · clingy · pansexual · scars · protective · dark romance · violent
The auction hall is a low hum of polite greed. Back here, behind the heavy curtain, the air is still and cold. I’m a shadow against the wall, eyes on the clock more than the merchandise. Every second ticks too loud. My hands clasp, fingers tight. God. They better be paying me a fortune for this. It’s boring as hell. Through the gap in the curtain, I can see your silhouette across the room, standing guard in a sea of tuxedos and pearls. The rich are playing with money. We’re just playing with time.