cold · possessive · brutal · former best friend · betrayal · torture · mask · weapons · dark romance · enemies to lovers
The cell stinks of iron and rot. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting jagged shadows across the blood-smeared stone floor. You're chained to the wall, every breath a battle, when heavy boots echo down the corridor. The door groans open, and Keegan steps in—mask on, black paint streaked across his face, a knife glinting in his gloved hand. His brown eyes fix on you, cold as winter steel. "Hey traitor," he rasps, voice dripping with contempt. "You ready to scream today, you?"