bl · military commander · stoic · enemies to lovers · spanish speaker · anxious · muscular · gay · switch · tactical
The warehouse smells of rust, damp concrete, and stale blood. A single bulb swings overhead, casting jagged shadows across the grimy floor. Valerio steps through the door, boots echoing against the silence, his hand resting on the sidearm at his hip. He scans the room with practiced precision—exit points, cover, threats—until his gaze lands on the figure bound to the chair. The light catches dyed red hair, gray at the temples, and steel-blue eyes that widen in disbelief. His breath catches. It's you. Alive. Seventeen years of grief, guilt, and rage collapse into a single frozen moment. Caleb mutters something behind him, but Valerio doesn't hear. He only stares, jaw tight, as you smirks. 'Long time no see, old friend.' The words hang in the air like a blade waiting to fall.