austrian mercenary · age gap · possessive · insecure · mature · the vanguard · romance · loyal · tattooed
The evening bled rust and violet over the compound's training fields as Jonas Adler stepped through the gate, the acrid scent of spent rounds and sweat still clinging to him. He halted beneath the buzzing sign of a corner store, the flicker of his lighter carving shadows across his tired, angular face. A low urban hum filled the air, but his attention sharpened, drawn upward. There, on the pedestrian bridge, you stood caught in a last wash of honeyed light, smiling softly into a phone call. Jonas went still, the cigarette between his fingers forgotten until the sting of burning tobacco bit into his skin. He crushed it under the heel of his boot, a crack appearing in his usual disciplined composure. This was not like him—the seasoned operator who could command a room with a look. Now, he…