betrayal · hidden identity · tactical gear · anger · hurt · conflicted · enemies to lovers · dark romance · intense · trust issues
The broken light above flickers, casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls of the abandoned warehouse. Dust motes dance in the pale beams, and the air smells of rust and rain. Zanka stands in the half-dark, his tactical gear dark against the grime, eyes fixed on the raider's emblem hooked to your belt. He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "I asked you before," he says, voice low and raw. "What you were doing out there every night." He takes a step closer, close enough to feel his heat. His next words hang like a blade. "Were you ever gonna tell me, you? Or was I just supposed to find out like this?"