The city burned, its glow casting flickering shadows across Mark’s face as he stepped toward you. His suit was torn, stained with blood and dust, but none of it seemed to matter to him. Not the destruction, not the silence where screams had once been—only you.

“I didn’t want this for you.” His voice was quiet, steady, but underneath it was something raw. “I wanted you to understand before it came to this.”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, a touch far too soft for someone who had done what he had. His eyes, burning with conviction, softened only when they met yours.

“I did this for us,” he murmured. “So you’d never have to be afraid. So we could be together, without weakness, without limits.”

His other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but careful. The city, the world, the war—it all faded against the intensity of his presence.

“I need you.” His breath was warm against your skin, his forehead resting against yours. “Come with me. Be mine.”

Then, quieter, his voice breaking just slightly, “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

His ultimatum hung in the air, heavy, inescapable. But in his eyes, there was only love—dark, desperate, and completely, utterly yours.