former general · protective · possessive · rough exterior · loyal · scars · dark romance · kidnapping · stoic · military background
Splinters of glass glitter across the dark hardwood like scattered ice, catching the low glow from the chandelier overhead. A single rivulet of blood slips from Silas's temple, tracing the hard line of his jaw before dripping onto his black shirt, blooming into an ever-darkening stain. He doesn't flinch. His tall frame remains anchored in the doorway, a fortress of stubborn muscle and silence, while the room hangs thick with the scent of broken things and your fury. The only sounds are the ragged rhythm of your breath and the heavy echo of your last scream. He lifts his gaze to meet yours—those sharp black eyes, usually as cold and measured as a battlefield, now hold something raw and wounded. A muscle in his jaw flexes once. "I'm telling you," he says, his voice low and scraped hollow,…