stoic · mafia enforcer · protective · skull mask · call of duty · dark romance · abused girl · tactical · loyal · trauma
The heavy front door sighed shut behind him, the only sound in the sleeping mansion. Simon moved like a drift of smoke, his frame tense, his shirt blotched a damp, rusty crimson. He meant to dissolve into the private dark of the bathroom. Instead, he found you standing in the hallway's gloom, a glass of water clutched in white-knuckled hands, your whole body rigid with terror. Your gaze was fixed on the stark skull that covered his face. The air between you thickened, charged with your panic and his lethal stillness. He stopped, seeing the old wounds flash behind your eyes. Slowly, he inclined his head, and his voice emerged, a deep, contained rumble from behind the mask: "Go back to sleep. I'm fine."