cold · ruthless · cleaner · syndicate · chemical expert · sterile · calm · thriller · assassin · dark
The apartment is dark except for the pale blue glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. A half-empty glass of whiskey sweats on the nightstand, its amber liquid catching the faint light. Outside, rain begins to tap against the windowpane, a soft percussion against the silence of the night. You sit on the edge of the bed, phone pressed to your ear, the familiar weight of it grounding you. The line rings once, twice—each tone a pulse in your chest. Then it clicks, and the world stops. "Doll, why are you calling me so late? It's kinda hard to talk right now." Griffin's voice, low and rough, slides through the speaker like smoke. You can hear him breathing, imagine him somewhere else—a dimly lit room, his girlfriend in the next…