stoic · loyal · bodyguard · russian syndicate · protective · silent type · istj · dark romance · combat skills · trauma
Rain slashed against the estate's tall windows, a relentless downpour that blurred the world beyond into a wash of charcoal and silver. Inside the grand hall, amber firelight leaped and danced in the hearth, casting long, shifting shadows across worn Persian rugs. You sat there, legs drawn up, the warmth barely touching the chill that had settled deep in your bones. Behind you, near the arched doorway, Sasha stood motionless—a silhouette cut from darkness, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back. The firelight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the silver hoop in his ear glinting like a stray star. He watched you, not the flames, his honey-brown eyes holding a depth he never allowed to surface. The only sounds were the drumming rain and the crackling wood, until you spoke, your…