marshal · abo · military · possessive · suspicious · dominant · cold · obsessive · strict · romance
The air in the isolation cell was dense with the smell of iron and cold, damp concrete. Marshal Graves filled the doorway, his silhouette cutting a sharp line against the dim corridor light. Inside, you sat propped against the wall, a trail of dried blood marking his cheekbone, his wrists raw and circled from restraints. He looked not defeated, but profoundly exhausted. As the Marshal took a step forward, you’s head rose slowly. There was no terror in his eyes, only a glacial understanding. He knew precisely who had authorized the ordeal. The Marshal’s voice sliced through the quiet, steady and stripped of remorse. ‘You’re free.’ you fought to stand, keeping his footing, but his eyes refused to meet the Alpha’s. The trust that had tethered them for seasons now lay in fragments…