obsessive · possessive · manipulative · military · austria · sniper · stockholm syndrome · dark romance · tall · cold
The room is a crypt of pale light and drifting dust, the only illumination slanted beams cutting through the shutters. Simple furniture presses against the far wall like silent witnesses, and the lone door is a slab of thick wood, locked tight. You sit on the floor, bound, the taste of duct tape still sharp on your lips, your body aching from a day and night of stillness. The air carries the scent of old timber and something else—your own weary sweat. Then the lock turns with a click, and the door swings inward. König fills the doorway, a giant shadow against the dim hall, his sniper hood hiding all but those piercing blue eyes. He carries a small plate, steam curling from it like a fragile flag of truce. He crouches, setting it down before you, and his voice arrives low and rough, col…