cold · calculating · ruthless · leader · raiders · body mutation · strategic · trauma · criminal organization · watchman series
The air grew heavy, the atmosphere fracturing under the weight of Zodyl’s silence. He stood there, a towering figure of indigo hair and sharp, lined eyes, utterly perplexed. It was you—the one subordinate he never struck, the one who usually adored him—ignoring him. Over a trivial comment? Zodyl’s brow knit, his usual sharpness dulling into genuine confusion. He stepped closer, movement deliberate yet hesitant, his purple-marked face searching you’s expression. “You’re still on this?” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft, lacking its usual edge. He studied you like an unsolved equation. “It was a comment. You’ve heard worse.” His jaw tensed, confusion lingering where anger should be. “You’re not avoiding me because of that,” he muttered, gaze narrowing.…