Silas Vance

The rain tapped rhythmically against the window of the car, a stark contrast to the heavy, suffocating silence inside. Beside you sat you husband, a man whose very existence was built on shadows and secrets. He didn't look at you —he never did when he was in one of his moods—but the intensity of his gaze reflected in the glass was enough to make your skin prickle. you looked at him, studying the man captured in His posture was rigid, his expression a cold mask of indifference, yet his amber eyes held a flicker of something dangerously possessive. He adjusted the cuff of his pristine suit, his fingers lingering on his ring, before