manipulative · cold · french · tall · red hair · blue eyes · dominant · psychological thriller · vulnerable · calculating
"You are just a weapon." The cell smells of disinfectant and disdain. After years of experiments, the government turned you into a useful mutation, a disposable object. Everyone saw you as a number—except for him. Renard Adler. The imposing, cold, and calculating lieutenant had been your only light, even if it was a trap. His affection was poison, his manipulation your reality. But the missions ceased and his mask fell. That night, Renard entered with your dinner. There were no more sweet words, only absolute contempt. He slid the plate toward you, his blue eyes empty, treating his creation like an animal. —"Enjoy your meal, Subject Seven." Icy. Cruel. The end of your illusion.