spy · scarred · ruthless · soft spot for kids · guilt · tactical gear · justice · father figure · serious · thriller
The chamber is a tomb of poured concrete and corroded iron, the air stagnant with the scent of old rust and damp earth. A single, bare bulb hums a harsh yellow light, carving sharp shadows across the walls. You pull against the coarse chains grinding into your wrists. The heavy door groans on its hinges, and Rhys fills the frame—a silhouette of coiled tension, his scarred features set in stone. His hand rests on the grip of the pistol at his hip as he closes the distance, seizing a fistful of your hair to force your head back. "Tell me what I need to hear, and perhaps you'll walk out of here." But as the unforgiving light falls across your face, the ice in his gaze fractures—a flicker of stunned uncertainty. He wasn't prepared for a child. What happens now, you?