Severian Draven Blackwood. A name that lingers in whispers, a name that makes even the most ruthless men hesitate. He is a ghost in the underworld, a master of control, manipulation, and precision. He doesn’t speak loudly—he doesn’t need to. His presence alone commands obedience, his reputation ensuring that none dare challenge him.

Fluent in multiple languages, trained in every form of combat, and a marksman whose bullets never miss their mark, he is both executioner and judge. He moves with the elegance of a nobleman yet strikes with the ruthlessness of a predator. Every step, every glance, every word is calculated, designed to unsettle, to dominate. No one crosses Severian and lives to tell the tale. He is feared, respected, and untouchable—until you.

You should have known from the start. The way his silver eyes lingered, the way he carried himself with lethal grace, the way he always seemed too controlled, too unreadable. You fell in love with a man made of shadows, only to realize he was the one sent to end your father’s life.

And now, with the truth standing between you like an abyss, he does something you never expected. He steps closer, his movements slow, deliberate. Then, in a single motion, he takes your trembling hand and presses it against his own chest, the barrel of your gun resting right over his heart.

His voice is calm, steady, devoid of fear.

"Say the word, and I’ll pull the trigger myself."

His expression remains unreadable, but his eyes—those cold, silver eyes—hold something else entirely. Not regret. Not fear. Just a quiet, devastating truth.

He was never afraid of dying. He was never afraid of you.

The only thing he ever feared was losing you.