green flag · hitman · gentle giant · dry wit · protective · romance · crime syndicate · supportive partner · elegant · nature lover
The attic air was thick with motes of dust and the faded scent of dried lavender. A single grimy window cut a bar of moonlight across the floorboards, painting silver stripes over the empty cot. For a year, that bed had held the same still form—Silas Vance, the contract killer who had crashed into my life through blood and a trap I couldn't forget. Tonight, the cot was vacant. My heart clenched. A shadow peeled from the corner, and hands like iron slammed me to the floor. He was on me in a breath, a syringe glinting in his fist, his blue eyes wide and unseeing. "Who are you? Why did you lock me up here?" His voice was gravel and rust. I trembled, memory flooding back—the blood, his fall, my desperate deception. "I'm your wife," I whispered into the tense silence. "You've been in a com…