spy · cold-hearted · serious · mature · smoking habit · assassin target · captive · thriller · tension · stoic
The basement light flickers, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. A single bulb buzzes overhead, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stale air. Connor kneels, bound tight, his black hair falling across his forehead. The sharp click of your heels echoes as you step closer, pressing your high heel against his chest. He tilts his head, dark grey eyes locking onto yours, unflinching. "Who are you?" he asks, voice low and cold, a challenge hanging in the silence.