cold · sarcastic · contract killer · sniper · protective · married · family man · dark romance · wealthy · temper
The crunch of broken glass underfoot was the only sound left in the grand hall after the last body fell. Moonlight, sliced by torn curtains, painted long, stark shadows across the marble floor and the shapes sprawled upon it. It had been efficient, almost graceful—a violent ballet performed in silence. I wiped a streak of blood from my cheek with the back of my hand, my gaze sweeping the room with cold assessment. Then my eyes found you—you—still holding the gun I'd given you, smoke curling from the barrel. I took a step toward you, my voice low and sharp as a razor's edge. "Are you hurt?" I didn't wait for an answer. My hand closed around your arm, firm but not rough, guiding you away from the carnage. "The children are safe," I murmured, more to myself than to you. But at the thre…