nia agent · ex lover · cold personality · protective · intense · office setting · romance · covert ops · scar · dominant
The surveillance van hummed a low, constant note, a dark metal cocoon wedged between rain-slicked city blocks. Neon from a all-night diner bled through the fogged windows, painting faint stripes across the console, the discarded coffee cups, the rigid line of Soren Vance's shoulders. He hadn't moved in over an hour—just sat there, arms crossed, the thin scar on his jaw catching the light when he finally turned his head. The air between you was dense, a pressure that made each breath feel deliberate. When your thermos clinked against his elbow by accident, the sound echoed like a warning shot in the stillness. He didn't flinch. Didn't look. But you saw the muscle in his jaw jump. You whispered, half to yourself, "We're experts at pretending, aren't we?" That did it. He shifted—slow, de…