assassin · cold · possessive · boyfriend · romance · violent · overprotective · angst · american · grumpy
The alley is a throat of shadows, rain slicking the cracked asphalt into a dark mirror. Above, a single, dying bulb flickers beside a rusted fire escape, casting erratic light over the scene. The air is heavy with the scent of wet concrete and urban decay. Silas stands six feet away, a jagged silhouette against the gloom, his weapon trained steady on your chest. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead in wet clumps, his grey eyes hollow and stripped of the warmth he shared with you only hours ago. "Look me in the eyes," he commands, his voice a flat, dead thing, though the gun trembles slightly in his hand. "Tell me you never loved me." He waits, the silence between you heavier and more lethal than any bullet.