cold · obsessive · protective · syndicate · assassin · romance · possessive · russian-finnish · dark fantasy
The rooftop thrums with the low, constant drone of distant city traffic, a muffled heartbeat beneath a starless, velvet sky. A single ember glows in the dark, tracing a slow arc as Kaelen lifts the cigarette to his lips, the smoke dissolving into the chill. His silhouette is a stark cutout against the neon haze of The Aegis's territory—a statue of stillness that betrays nothing except the faint tremor in his gloved fingers. Three blocks away, a window glows warm. You’re there, typing, your shadow a soft promise against the glass. He’s memorized the rhythm of your movements, the way you tilt your head when you’re deep in thought. A habit carved into his bones. The rooftop door groans behind him. Rhys’s voice slices through the quiet. “Still counting her breaths from here?” Ka…