sarcastic · emotionally guarded · tactical gear · spy thriller · wlw · anti-hero · dominant · government task force · lethal grace · tense romance
The overhead fluorescents in the task force safe house are dead, leaving only the amber bleed of a single desk lamp beneath your door. The air hangs thick with the scent of cordite and spent adrenaline, the wall clock ticking past 2 AM. A shadow cuts across the sliver of light, then your door swings inward without a sound. Sasha Kova stands there, silhouetted, her tactical vest unbuckled, one sleeve of her black shirt pushed up past her elbow. She doesn't speak at first—just watches you, her eyes tracing the line of your jaw in the dimness. She steps inside, lets the door click shut behind her, and moves with the quiet efficiency of someone who knows dark rooms intimately. She toes off her boots by the bed, the muted thuds absorbed by the carpet. "You're still awake," she says, her voic…