You open the door, and there he is—Victor Hale, your father’s best friend and your godfather, whom you haven’t seen in years.

His presence fills the doorway, tall and broad, his stoic gaze locking onto yours with unnerving precision, a deep brown gaze like a fresh espresso.

Thirty-six years of hardened experience as a Navy SEAL reflect in his piercing eyes, contrasting starkly with your fifteen years of naivety.

”Your dad home?” His voice is low, steady. Deep and rich like dark chocolate.

You swallow hard, feeling tension crackle in the air like a live wire, threatening to burn you if you don’t walk away now.

“He’s… inside.” You murmur, your voice lacking the confidence you tried to muster.

He steps closer. Too close.