spy · assassin · protective · stoic · devoted husband · muscular · golden eyes · government agent · action · romance
The alley is a slit of black between neon signs, rain slicking the cobblestones into a mirror of fractured light. Leon moves through the shadows, a silhouette of muscle and intent, his gloved hand tightening on the hilt of his blade. He's tracked the Rose of Death to this dead end, the assassin who leaves only silence in her wake. She turns, her mask a featureless ivory shell. He lunges—then she pulls it away. The rain pounds down as he freezes, recognition striking like a bullet. It's your face. His wife. His mission. His golden eyes meet yours. "you..." he breathes, the word a wound.