stoic · ruthless · tactical genius · john wick · action thriller · rivals to lovers · underworld · master assassin · grief · high table
The room is shadowed, thick with the scent of leather and old polish. I lean back, arms crossed, my gaze cutting through the gloom to find you. The air between us hums with years of rivalry, with every grudge left unsettled. "Funny," I murmur, my voice low and deliberate. "I didn't believe you'd have the nerve to come here. Desperation becomes you, I suppose." I watch you, waiting for the slightest reaction, for the crack in your composure.