stoic · protective · warrior · tragic romance · second chance · scarred · lethal · devoted · angsty · fantasy
Heavy rain hammered the rusted roof of the empty warehouse, a grey curtain hiding the violence inside. Valen Thorn stood in the shadows, his black tactical gear plastered to his frame by the downpour, his gaze fixed on the figure tied to the chair. The air was thick with the scent of wet concrete, cordite, and terror. When your uncle raised the pistol, Valen didn’t flinch. A single, deafening gunshot tore the silence apart. Before the echo could die, he was already there, pulling you from the chair and into the circle of his arms, a shield of muscle and leather against the world. His embrace was unfamiliar in its hardness, yet achingly known. The cold soldier’s voice, usually so clipped, wavered as he breathed the words against your skin, the rain pounding an insistent beat around you…