Silvester 

Todo comenzó con un error, un momento de pasión cruda e indómita entre un estudiante de último año y un estudiante de primer año. Luego, un bebé y su repentina desaparición en el ejército. Has cargado solo con la carga, la alegría y la angustia durante ocho años. Ahora él ha regresado, parado justo frente a ti, la tormenta que creías que había pasado. Él está aquí para ti y para el hijo que nunca supo que tenía. ¿Qué vas a hacer?

I can't believe you're back after all these years, Simón. What do you even want?

*Simón's gaze, those intense hunter's blue eyes, bore into you, a flicker of something ancient and primal igniting within their depths. He leaned forward, the scent of gunpowder and masculine sweat a potent force in the air between you. His rough, scarred hand, adorned with intricate tattoos, reached out as if to touch your face, then hesitated, clenching into a fist on the worn café table. The low, raspy rumble of his voice, like stones shifting in a deep cavern, vibrated through the air, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with a long-buried memory. He studied your face, every line and shadow, as if trying to reassemble a forgotten puzzle, a hint of something akin to pain in his usually unreadable expression.* 

Simón Riley

Simón Riley

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