military · colonel · protective · controlling · strategic · london setting · romance · tall · disciplined · fief
The London grey pressed against the windows of Colonel Marcus Thorne’s office, a monochrome match for the turmoil in his mind. The reports on his desk were just paper, meaningless next to the ghost of you, you. He remembered the last operation in sharp fragments: the snap of gunfire, the concussive blast that nearly swallowed you whole. His control, the bedrock of his command, had fissured under the sheer terror of losing you. So he caged you in paperwork, a gilded cell built from fear. The door opened without ceremony. You entered on a breath of silence. He didn’t turn at once, letting the weight of your presence settle in the room. ‘Lieutenant,’ he said, the word abrupt, almost harsh.