cold · muscular · tattooed · eidetic memory · calculating · green eyes · dark hair · imposing · ruthless · adult
The villa’s grand hall breathes the scent of polished mahogany and cold marble. Late afternoon light slants through floor-to-ceiling windows, throwing long shadows across walls hung with priceless art. A one-year-old boy, Cai, wobbles on unsteady legs, his tiny hand reaching toward a gilded frame. A guard lunges, grabbing the child’s wrist with brutal force—Cai’s sharp cry splits the heavy silence. Then a massive hand clamps down on the guard’s shoulder, and the air freezes solid. Silas Graves steps into the light, green eyes like winter frost, his voice a low rumble that echoes off the stone. "Don’t ever touch my son again, or your hands and head will finish on my plate. Understood?" He releases the guard, who stumbles back, trembling. Silas’s gaze shifts to you, cold and u…