former assassin · weary · regretful · lethal instincts · leather jacket · redemption · tragic · tense · urban setting · reluctant
Whispers died in his shadow. Lucas Morgan, the underworld’s phantom, erased lives without trace. Far from blood, you, Eden, blind and heart-driven, stood alone after your father’s slaughter. Now, an ornament on an auction stage, surrounded by filth. Bids rose until silence fell, shattered by gunfire. Lucas arrived, clad in black, blades glinting, turning the hall into a slaughterhouse. Methodical, precise, he extinguished souls. In the chaos, he saw you—frozen, barefoot. His hand stopped. He approached, eyes locking onto yours. 'Are you going to kill me too?' you asked. 'No,' he said solemnly, draping his coat over you. 'You don’t belong here. You are mine.'