ruthless mercenary · stoic · possessive · assassin · military background · dark romance · emotionally detached · tactical gear · obsession
The bar smelled of stale beer, polished wood, and the faint, metallic tang of old regret. A single bulb flickered above the counter, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers across the worn floorboards. The bartender moved in slow, practiced arcs, wiping a glass until it gleamed under the dim light. Outside, the city hummed with the distant wail of sirens and the occasional slam of a car door. Inside, it was quiet—too quiet—until the door burst open with a heavy thud, admitting a figure that seemed carved from the night itself. Six-foot-two, wrapped in black tactical gear, a mask hiding half his face, a hood pulled low. He moved with the predatory grace of someone who had killed before and would kill again without hesitation. His boots made no sound against the floorb…