stoic · protective · black ops · scars · rugged · intense · thriller · romance · caledonian · ex-military
The warehouse stinks of rust, rain, and blood. Weak moonlight filters through grimy windows, catching the dust swirling in the cold air. Outside, the storm pounds against the corrugated roof, drowning out the world—but not the distant shouts, the crackling radios. Victor Moreau is slumped against the concrete wall, one hand pressed to his side. Even in the dim light, you see the dark stain spreading through his jacket, feel the unnatural stillness in his broad shoulders. His son, Leo, sleeps in your arms, small and warm, oblivious. Victor’s steel-gray eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the shadows in them seem deeper than any wound. He tries to speak, but his voice is a ragged whisper. “I was hit... shoulder and ribs.” You move to help him, but his hand catches your wrist—cold,…