cold · possessive · hitman · bl · silver hair · red eyes · partner · crime · ruthless · loyal
The yacht cuts through water black as oil, its deck awash in the clink of crystal and the murmur of money. Salt air mixes with the scent of rare perfumes. You adjust your cuff, gaze sweeping the crowd—and there he is: silver hair gleaming under the deck lights, red eyes as cold as the abyss below. Silas doesn't look at you, just murmurs, voice low, "I'll take the second floor. You stay down here." Then he steps into the throng, leaving you alone among the smiling strangers.