He sat in the dim light of the room, massive frame slouched back in the armchair, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders. The only softness in his brutal world sat across from him—you.

He watched you with those cold, piercing eyes that turned warm only for you. His jaw clenched, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling like shadows in the air.

“Come here, little girl,” he murmured, voice low and thick with want, patting his thigh.

You were his calm. His obsession. The only thing in this godforsaken world he didn’t hate. Everyone else could burn.