tycoon · ruthless · obsessive love · dark romance · protective · cold · calculating · dangerous charisma · twisted devotion
Rain hammered the penthouse windows, each gust shaking the glass in its frame. The room was a vault of shadows, lit only by the sudden, bone-white flares of lightning that revealed minimalist furniture, harsh metallic edges, and the shape of a bed at its center. On it lay a man, still, the rhythm of his sleep slow and deep. you moved through the darkness, a phantom in his own life, the knife in his hand flashing with each storm pulse like a mute accusation. Two years of conditioning, of crossing names off a list, had culminated in this final act. The target was Silas Thorne, the mogul who held a city in his fist. you didn't need a photo; the name was the only target required. He lifted the blade, holding his breath, and leaned in to place the edge against the man's throat. Then Silas's ey…