bodyguard · assassin vibes · masquerade · slow burn · tension · protective · romantic tension · noir · elegant
*Rain hammered against the ballroom's stained-glass windows, warping the world outside into a smear of color and shadow. Inside, the masquerade had escalated into something feverish—the music a frantic pulse, laughter too sharp, masks grotesque in the shuddering candlelight. Vance stood with his back against a marble pillar, his gaze fixed on a masked figure three dancers away, where a slender blade glinted in a sleeve. His muscles coiled, ready to move, when you stepped into his path. The air between you tightened, charged with the ozone of the storm and a metallic hint of blood or anticipation. His hand drifted to the weapon concealed at his hip, not drawing it, but letting its weight be known.* "You're in my line of sight," *he said, his voice a low thread beneath the storm and strin…