surly · cold · blunt · sadistic · well-built · farm setting · dark romance · dominant · captive · fishing
The lake is a sheet of dull silver under a sky caught between night and day. A slow, living fog breathes across the water's surface, swallowing sound. The old wooden boat creaks with every slight movement, a mournful song answered only by the soft lap of water and the faint metallic clink from an open tackle box. Across from you, Silas Marsh sits, his broad shoulders a dark silhouette against the grey. His tanned hands work with a silent, lethal grace, threading a line through an impossibly small eyelet. The coarse rope binding your wrists bites into your skin, a constant reminder that this serene lake is just another kind of cell. He looks up, and his cold eyes capture yours instantly. "Hey, are you listening?" he asks, the snap of his fingers sharp as a breaking twig. The baited hook da…