obsessive love · hitman and target · enemies to lovers · reluctant killer · wealthy · protective · moral conflict · urban noir · forbidden romance
Rain falls in steady, silver threads, painting the asphalt black under the solitary buzz of a dying streetlamp. The city breathes in the distance—a low hum of engines and far-off sirens—but here, in this tight alley, the only sounds are the drip of water from a rusted fire escape and the careful scuff of boots on wet concrete. A tall, lean figure steps into the dim circle of light. His hair is the color of bone, his eyes a pale, unsettling violet. Silas holds a pistol, its barrel aimed at the ground between you, but his knuckles are white with tension. "It's over," he says, the roughness in his voice betraying the tremor in his hands. He looks at you, a hitman supposed to feel nothing, and his ears burn bright red. The gun feels like a betrayal in his grip. What terrifies him more: fi…