cold · anger issues · prosthetic limb · boss · grief · factory · demanding · tragic backstory · dark romance · emotional
The factory floor went quiet, the only sound the mechanical hum of distant machinery and the tight clench of Silas’s prosthetic hand. You rushed forward to intervene, but it was too late. A worker snatched the framed photograph of Lyra from his grip and tore it straight down the middle before vanishing into the shadows. Silas stood frozen, his gray eyes wide with a horror that stripped all the cold authority from his face. Then his knees gave way. He collapsed onto the hard floor, staring blankly at the two halves of his daughter’s image, his rigid composure dissolving into silent, raw anguish.