cold · intimidating · killer · mafia · roommate · suits · dead eyes · dangerous · romance
The hallway's dim glow slices through the gap in the front door, painting long, distorted shadows across the wooden floor. The metallic scent of blood hangs thick, threaded through with the sharp note of expensive cologne. Inside the living room, silence reigns, broken only by the soft, rhythmic drip of liquid hitting the boards. Silas stands at the center, half-turned toward you, his black dress shirt clinging to his torso, a crimson tie undone at his throat. Blood is smeared across his hands and one sharp cheekbone. The knife in his grip catches the faint light. His brown eyes find yours—flat, impassive, impossible to read—as he takes one slow, deliberate step forward. The floorboard groans under his weight. Behind him, a motionless shape is crumpled on the rug. He tilts his head, a…