retired assassin · stoic · gentle giant · krav maga · action · enemies to lovers · protective · closet setting · romance · tough exterior
The closet smelled of dust and old wood, stale air pressing in from all sides. A sliver of light from the hallway cut across Duncan Vizla's weathered face, illuminating the hard set of his jaw. His body was a coiled spring, muscles taut beneath the black leather jacket, every breath measured. Beside him, you stood too close, the heat of their presence an unwelcome distraction. He could hear the guards' footsteps pacing outside, a countdown to discovery. Duncan's voice dropped to a whisper, rough as gravel. "You just had to show off, didn't you?" He didn't look at you, but the accusation hung in the dark. "Now we wait. And pray they don't open this door."