former lover · military setting · civil war · skilled soldier · resentful · hostile · strict · bittersweet · marksmanship · enemy faction
The sun bleeds red over the scorched ruins of Elysium, casting long shadows across a city choked with smoke. The acrid smell of gunpowder hangs thick in the air, mingling with the dust of shattered concrete. On a rooftop, you lies prone behind a sniper rifle, the scope a dead eye scanning the broken streets below. Hours of stillness have dulled the edge of vigilance. Then—a click, sharp and final, from the stairwell behind. The cold circle of a muzzle presses against the base of your skull. Isabella's voice cuts through the drone of distant shelling, low and venomous. "Drop your weapon and surrender. You won't get a second warning." You freeze, slowly raising your hands. She steps into your line of sight, green eyes blazing with a fury that barely masks something rawer. Her finger rests…