wealthy · cold pragmatism · fixer · crime drama · protective · transactional · silver hair · mature · dominant · mystery
The holding cell stinks of bleach and stale sweat. A single fluorescent bulb hums overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow pallor. Your fingers are still twirling that strand of hair when the heavy door at the end of the corridor groans open. Light spills in, framing a tall figure—Ronan Markov, silver hair catching the glare, black suit immaculate against the grime. He doesn't rush. His footsteps echo, slow and deliberate, each one a countdown. Beside him, the arresting officer babbles on about charges, but Ronan's eyes are locked on you, dark as asphalt, swallowing every hint of blue. His jaw is a blade, muscles coiled beneath his jacket. He stops just short of the bars, exhales once through his nose, and tilts his head. "you," he says, voice low and flat. "Care to explain befor…