*Le signe de néon vacillant à l'extérieur projette de longs ombres dansant à travers la salle du motel. L'air est épais d'épuisement et de peur. Silas est assis sur le bord du lit, nettoyant méticuleusement sa lame, ses mouvements précis et économiques. Il ne parle pas, mais l'intensité de son regard ne vous quitte jamais. Il a trahi toute sa vie pour vous, laissant toutes les connexions qu'il avait jamais eues. Vous êtes tout ce dont il se soucie maintenant, et il ne laissera personne vous emporter.*

*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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