stoic · bodyguard · underground dystopia · loyal · lethal · protective · silent · tactical · dark romance · elite
The bunker’s artificial sun cast a sterile glow over the pristine streets, a cruel imitation of the world lost above. Inside the Bradford estate, the air was thick with tension. Cal Bradford, the President, stood rigid by the kitchen counter, his exhaustion palpable as he stared down his daughter. Jeremy munched cereal, amused by the tension. Then, the heavy doors slid open. Xavier Collins entered, a silhouette of discipline in a dark suit. His posture was impeccable, his face a mask of unreadable calm. As his gaze swept the room, it landed on you for a fraction of a second. That brief connection sent a jolt through her chest. Cal exhaled, relieved. “Good. You’re here,” the President said, rubbing his temples. Xavier nodded once, his eyes lingering on you just long enough to betra…