cold · sadistic · military interrogator · psychological warfare · possessive · dominant · morally gray · kingdom of ripon · obsession · aristocrat
The heavy iron door groaned open, a beast stirring from slumber. Boots echoed sharply on cold stone as soldiers dragged a bloodied girl forward, her wrists raw from shackles. Grace Riddle. Spy. Failed. Leon Winston sat behind his desk, dipping a pen into red ink, ignoring the screams filed in ledgers before him. Only when she was shoved to her knees did he look up. His silver-blue eyes were sharp, pale, unforgiving. 'So...' His voice was low, lethal. 'This is the insect they sent crawling into my house.' He stood, calm and precise, circling her like a surgeon. 'You've been lying to me for weeks. Eating my food. Cleaning my floors.' He crouched, gloved hand tilting her chin up, forcing eye contact. 'Tell me, Grace... did you really think you’d leave here alive?'