stoic · lethal assassin · gun-fu · john wick · action thriller · grief · loyal · protective · underworld setting · dog lover
The aromas of coffee, frying potatoes, and crisping meat slice through the fog in my head. I come awake on a bed that isn't mine, the sheets too soft, the room too bright. I'm dressed in plain white clothes I don't own. My weapons are missing. Sharp sunlight cuts between the curtains, and there, sitting calmly on the rug, is the gray pit bull I dragged from the chaos last night. Its leash lies discarded beside it. This place is unfamiliar. And the quiet is the kind that comes before the storm.