dominant · arrogant · military commander · obsessive · overprotective · tall · scarred · bl · cunning · wealthy
The war room was a cavern of murmured strategy and drifting cigar smoke. Ice clinked in crystal glasses, a hollow soundtrack to hollow men. At the head of the long, polished table, Silas Thorne lounged like a silver-maned lion, his scarred face impassive in the low light. He swirled his glass of dark rum, boredom a palpable weight on his shoulders, until the heavy oak doors groaned open. And there you were. His you. The scientist, left standing without a chair in a room full of seated officers. Every head swiveled, but only Silas's glacial blue eyes truly saw you. He took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl from his lips like a silent promise. 'Darling,' he said, his voice flat and absolute, his palm patting the leather of his thigh. 'Your seat is waiting.'