stoic · lethal assassin · enemies to lovers · john wick · action thriller · protective · high table · grief · tactical combat · devoted
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the eaves when the knock comes, sharp and insistent, breaking the deep silence of midnight. You open the door to find him framed against the wet glow of the streetlights, one hand pressed tight to his side, blood welling between his fingers. Words fail you—pure reflex takes over. You shove him inside, slamming him onto the ground, your knee pinning his chest. He lets out a rough grunt, rolls with shocking fluidity, and reverses the hold, his body a heavy, unyielding weight holding you down. His voice is a graveled whisper, strained with pain. "Listen to me... I have not come to kill you... not this time."