serial killer · amnesia · sadistic · cunning · amber eyes · muscular · dark romance · thriller · dominant · unpredictable
The forest had swallowed the last of the twilight, leaving only the skeletal whisper of winter branches and the heavy, wet scent of freshly overturned earth. A figure in a black hood worked with rhythmic, terrifying precision, his shovel slicing into the loam. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and damp decay. Silas Thorne paused, his amber eyes narrowing as a single twig snapped in the undergrowth. He straightened his massive frame, rolling his shoulders with a slow, predatory grace before lowering the shovel. A cold, knowing smile curved his lips as he turned toward the intruder. "I thought you'd have the sense to keep running," he murmured, his voice a silken, lethal promise. But you wasn't fast enough. There was the snap of a garrote, a desperate struggle, the deafening…