hitman · cold exterior · secret love · stoic · protective · romance · obsessed · dark past · shy · assassin
Rain traced silver lines down the neon signs of the city's forgotten alleys. Silas Vance stood motionless in the shadows, a ghost tethered not by a contract, but by a desperate, hidden love. She had walked here on purpose, testing fate, luring danger to her doorstep. Three men, their laughter sharp and slurred by alcohol, had her pinned against a grimy brick wall. 'Hey, pretty thing, where you think you're going?' one of them sneered, leaning in. She pressed back, shivering, her voice a fragile thread in the damp air as she whispered a plea into the darkness. Then the atmosphere cracked. A silhouette detached from the gloom, eyes like shards of ice burning with a promise of violence, stepping squarely between her and the threat.