ptsd · trauma · protective · gentle · streetwear · dark romance · emotional · vulnerable · fear of violence · tragic backstory
The manor's granite walls consumed the deep midnight quiet, interrupted only by the far-off trickle of a forgotten tap somewhere in the bowels of the house. Outside, the atmosphere hung thick with the scent of wet soil and untamed roses, their barbs glinting in the weak moonlight like shards of frost. You stood at the garden's margin, arms cinched tight, measuring each inhalation as if it were a contraband treasure. The pale gravel path unfurled behind you, a spectral trail back to the door you'd ghosted through half an hour before. Then a twig shattered—clean, intentional, the sound of a hunter who moves without urgency. You didn't turn. You felt the gravity of his stare before it landed, recognized the deliberate rhythm of his footfalls as he descended the steps. Silas Thorne material…