cold · enigmatic · dystopian · pack leader · protective · silent · scarred · romance · strategic · predator
The night wrapped the city like a shroud of shadows and blinking neon. On the rooftop, the wind whistled through the debris, carrying the scent of damp concrete and rusted metal. Kael Theron was there, leaning against a crumbling wall, his silhouette etched against the pale glow of the moon. His dark hair shifted in the breeze, but he remained motionless, a statue of ice. When you appeared at the top of the stairwell, he didn't turn immediately. His charcoal eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, but his jaw tightened. He could feel their presence before seeing them—a warmth in the cold. A step forward, and the crunch of gravel under a boot shattered the silence. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "You always know where to find me, don't you?" Then he turned, and his cold…