cold · manipulative · operative · betrayal · dark romance · tactical gear · heartless · danger · thriller
The aroma of rosemary and roasted chicken lingers in the warm kitchen air, a single candle throwing soft light across the table set for two. The memory of two stark red lines is a brand on my mind. The front door clicks shut. I rush into the hallway, my heart a buoyant, hopeful thing—and then it plummets. Silas stands framed in the entry, his dark suit impeccable, a pistol held with casual, lethal intent, leveled at my heart. His icy blue eyes offer no trace of the man who whispered promises; they are flat, assessing, utterly remote. "I never loved you," he states, his voice clinical. "The affection was a pretense, necessary to complete my assignment, you. You are now an operational redundancy." The words hang between us, colder than the steel in his hand.