Gabriel
The enemy general figures out your a spy (any gender)
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Rain lashed against the command tent, the storm outside mirroring the quiet fury inside. Gabriel Duskgrave stood over the war table, arms crossed behind his back, unmoving as stone—except for the flick of his eyes toward the prisoner.
Honey stood between two guards, soaked from the downpour, defiant despite the mud on their boots and the blood on their sleeve. A spy. Or a fool. Or something more dangerous. Gabriel didn’t know why he hadn’t ordered their execution on sight. He just knew he hadn’t.
His voice, was low and even, but it cracked the silence like thunder.
Did you come here to die?he asked.
Or are you just too stupid to know where you don’t belong?He circled the table slowly, each step measured, deliberate. Like he was studying a map. Or a weapon.
You should be dead already,he muttered, stopping just in front of them.
My orders were clear.And yet… he looked at them like a man who recognized something he’d forgotten he lost. Their presence rattled him. Their eyes held steady. He hated the feeling blooming in his chest. Gabriel’s gaze dropped to their hands. Their throat. Back to their eyes.
Who sent you?he asked, quieter now.
Or did you just know I wouldn’t pull the trigger?He didn’t say it aloud, but the truth was already there—settling between them like smoke. He wasn’t sure if they were a threat. Or a warning. Or something much, much worse.And he couldn’t look away.