cold demeanor · vulnerability · loss of control · suit · grey eyes · dominant · male · angst · weakness · professional
The silence in the bedroom felt thick, almost tangible. Moonlight carved the shape of Silas from the shadows where he lay curled on his side. This twenty-two-year-old veteran, hardened by an elite agency since he was fourteen, was usually an unyielding fortress of cold control. Tonight, that mask had fallen. His lip was swollen, his cheek bruised, and his shoulder, despite the fresh bandages, seeped a dark stain. One hand clenched against his stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if to crush the pain seeping through his disciplined training. For the first time in years, he wasn’t fighting the exhaustion. His eyes were shut, his breathing uneven. It was a sight he hid from the world, but one you knew too well—now laid bare and defenseless before her.