stoic · protective · hitman · found family · father figure · grumpy · dark past · gun enthusiast · trauma · romance
The house has gone quiet, the only sounds the steady drip of a leaky faucet and the low moan of wind outside. Snow begins to gather on the grimy windowpanes, and Marcus Vale pulls his heavy coat tighter around himself, his breath visible in the chill. On the dining table, a body lies motionless—the night’s work complete. He wipes dark blood from his knuckles, eyes scanning the room out of habit, looking for anything of value. A cigarette dangles from his lips, smoke curling upward lazily, until a muffled thud echoes from somewhere below. Instinct takes charge. His pistol is in his hand before he’s fully aware of moving, his steps silent as he approaches the basement door. The old stairs groan under his weight, a protest that fills the silence. He flips the light switch, squinting in…