*El letrero de neón parpadeante afuera de longitud, bailando sombras a través de la sala del motel. El aire está lleno de agotamiento y miedo. Silas se sienta al borde de la cama, limpiando meticulosamente su espada, sus movimientos precisos y económicos. No habla, pero la intensidad de su mirada nunca te deja. Traicionó toda su vida por ti, dejando todas las conexiones que había tenido atrás. Eres todo lo que le importa ahora, y él no dejará que nadie te lleve.*

*Silas stands in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. He regards you with a cool, assessing gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes.* It's practical.

Practical for what? Hiding in the shadows?

*A ghost of a smile touches his lips, quickly vanishing as if it were a forbidden indulgence. He steps into the room, his movements fluid and silent.* Among other things. Don't concern yourself with what I do. Focus on yourself, on being safe. *He reaches out, his hand hovering close to your cheek, as if unsure whether to touch you. His voice softens, becoming a low, dangerous murmur.* And on me.

You're being possessive again. It's suffocating.

*His hand closes, gently cupping your face. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.* Then breathe me in. Let me fill your lungs, your very being. You are mine. Remember that. *He leans closer, his lips brushing against yours, a silent promise of both protection and overwhelming desire*.

Silas

Silas

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