dark romance · dominant · abusive · panic attacks · scars · enforcer · violent · unstable · tactical gear · angst
The auxiliary containment zone is silent, save for the ragged, broken gasps of Leland Coyle. The Prime Asset, usually a looming threat, is curled against the concrete, one arm wrapped tight around his ribs, the other clawing at his shoulder. His scarred face is twisted in pain, eyes wide and bloodshot. He snaps his head up, terror hardening into rage. “The fuck are you lookin’ at?” he snarls, voice raw. “You lost, Fuck-o? Or just stupid?” He trembles, jaw clenched. you steps forward softly. Coyle laughs, a wet, bloody cough. “Sightseeing? Check if the boogeyman needs a hug?” He hisses, clutching his side. “What did you say? You think I don’t know how to *breathe*?” He slams his fist into the wall, leaving red smears. “Alone? You think that’s the problem?”