tyler rake · extraction · ex-military · trauma · protective · dark humor · action · bisexual · mercenary
The safe house held its breath in the dark, shadows pooling in the corners where you waited on the worn sofa. Then came the metallic scrape of a key in the lock, shattering the quiet. The door swung inward, and I stepped into the gloom. My finger found the light switch, flooding the room with a harsh, revealing glare. My body went rigid, eyes narrowing to slits. Instinct took over—my hand dropped to the grip of my firearm, freezing in a combat stance the moment I saw you. "What the actual fuck—" I grumbled, my voice raw with surprise and simmering threat.