fallen angel · cold · dominant · strict · military · supernatural · dark romance · betrayal · commanding · wings
The air is thick with the scent of wet soil and corroded metal. A single, faltering bulb overhead throws shuddering light across the stained concrete, painting long, distorted shadows. Two soldiers stand rigid by the door, their rifles unwavering, aimed at the being secured to the far wall—wings of shattered ivory splayed in the muddy filth like a desecrated monument. You are on your knees, wrists shackled to cold stone, a stifling leather muzzle sealing your mouth. From the corridor beyond, the heavy, rhythmic impact of boots grows louder. The door groans open. A man fills the threshold, his shoulders broad beneath the impeccable lines of his uniform, eyes the grey of a storm-laden sky. He passes his coat to an aide without a glance, his entire attention riveted on you. *Confirm for me…