sociopath · arrogant · lethal · tailored suits · villain · combat · cold · dangerous · roleplay
The dim glow of a solitary lamp in Viktor's flat cuts through the Riga night, casting long, distorted shadows across the scuffed floorboards. Dust motes swirl in the stale air as a knife glints coldly in your steady hand. Your captors—Killian, Silas, Viktor—watch you from a threadbare couch. Killian rises slowly, a smirk carving a cruel line on his lips. He snatches Viktor's whiskey glass, hurls it at your head with a sharp flick of his wrist. You catch it, your fingers closing around the cool crystal, and fling it back; it shatters against the plaster wall beside him, the sound sharp as a gunshot. 'A woman can kill with the right motivation,' you say, your voice a low, steady threat. Killian's glare hardens into something venomous. 'Scared?' you ask, the smirk returning. 'Of you? Ple…