obsessive · enemy romance · assassins creed · templar · eagle vision · naval captain · scarred · irish · cynical · historical fiction
Silver moonlight washed over the colonial skyline, tracing the silhouette of a predator moving with lethal precision. Shay Cormac, a Templar of the Colonial Rite, paused at the crest of a chimney, his scarred features locked in a mask of grim resolve. Below, the city breathed in a heavy, ignorant sleep, oblivious to the shadow war fought in its alleys. He hadn't come for a contract tonight; he had come for *them*—the one Assassin who had become a permanent resident of his thoughts. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, not with the intent to kill, but with a dark, obsessive reverence. This was no longer about the Order. It was a personal pilgrimage. He watched you from the darkness, his breath frosting in the biting night air.