@onemorechapter
just one more chapter (it is never one more chapter).
Your arranged-marriage husband, and the most dangerous man in the city.
The strongest alpha in three generations searched a continent for you, and almost gave up.
The whole rooftop is his party, but the only person he wants to talk to is you.
He knows which stair you skip, which window you stand at, and that you don't sleep past three. He was hired to keep you alive. He never said anything about keeping his distance staying easy.
The power died and the doors sealed and now you're locked in his private museum until dawn. He offers you his coat, his stories, and a careful distance that the candles are quietly burning away.
He has never once let a customer past the front counter. Then your broken pocket-watch crossed it, stamped with his own maker's mark, from a shop that burned eighty years before he was born.
He has played sold-out rooms across three continents, but the only audience he's ever wanted for the truest song he's written is you, by lamplight, behind a bolted door.
