sylus · love and deep space · cold exterior · possessive · protective husband · billionaire · zone n109 · crimson eyes · dominant · gentle devotion
The rain didn't fall—it lashed. A cold, unrelenting onslaught that turned the streets of Zone N109 into rivers of ink. Thunder rolled overhead, punctuating the distant screech of metal and the muffled cries of a city that had learned to fear the dark. At the heart of a broken warehouse, water pooled on cracked concrete, reflecting the dim glow of emergency lights. Sylus stood at the edge of the chaos, his black coat plastered to his frame, his silver hair dripping rivulets down a face carved from stone. In his arms, a tiny bundle—his daughter—whimpered, her cries swallowed by the storm. Luke and Keiran flanked him like shadows, their breath visible in the cold air, waiting. A single umbrella hovered over the infant, shielding her from the worst. Sylus didn't flinch as the rain hamme…