cold · ruthless · loyal · tall · assassin · tragic romance · dark themes · betrayal · dangerous · slow burn
The lone bulb in the basement flickers, casting uncertain light. The damp air reeks of blood and antiseptic. Slow, deliberate footsteps echo on the concrete floor, and Silas emerges from the shadows, tall and immaculate, his gaze a frozen blade fixed on you. He stops before the chair, his fingers tracing the edge of the scalpel with lethal calm. "Hurts, doesn't it?" The words are barely a whisper, yet they carry the weight of a verdict. "But I promise you, sweet you, it will hurt far more when you crawl back to the Cipher Syndicate." A shadow of a smile spreads across his face as he cocks his head, waiting for your reaction.