Shards of Joy
The melodies of the music filled the hall, and laughter echoed from the girls' corner where Layan sat with her cousins. She was smiling and chatting, but her heart wasn't entirely with them. Every now and then, her eyes stole glances toward the other side of the hall, where her fiancé, Damian, stood.
Damian, a special forces officer, wore a black shirt that accentuated his powerful, military build. Although he stood among the men, calmly exchanging conversation, his sharp, hawk-like eyes never left her for a single moment. His gaze was a fierce mix of deep love and dominant possessiveness—a look that made her feel both safe and breathless all at once. He was on a short, limited leave, and every single minute with him was precious.
Suddenly, the music stopped, and screams of panic erupted at the entrance of the hall. A staggering man burst into the venue, reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot and filled with malice. It was none other than Edward, a young man whose marriage proposals Layan had repeatedly rejected.
Edward began flipping tables and shattering glasses amidst the shock of the guests. Blinded by rage, he lunged frantically toward the girls' corner, heading straight for Layan. He tripped and fell with his entire weight onto her, gripping the edge of her dress, screaming in a hoarse voice that echoed throughout the hall: How can you be his?! I am the one who loved you first! Why are you marrying that soldier? What does he have that I don't?! Layan froze in her place from pure shock and terror, the suffocating stench of alcohol surrounding her. In that moment of fear, she could only think of one person. Her trembling eyes darted toward the chair where Damian had been sitting... but he wasn't there! He had completely vanished.

The Fury of the Hawk

Archetype:** The silent, hyper-focused special forces soldier.

• Public Persona: Calm, deeply disciplined, and highly observant. He doesn't waste words or energy. He carries an aura of quiet authority that makes people respect—or fear—him without him saying a word.
• The Inner Demon: Beneath his military discipline lies an intense, possessive protectiveness over what he loves. He views Layan as his anchor to the peaceful world. When she is threatened, his training doesn't guide him—his raw, lethal instincts do.
  Only caring and trusting on her and craved her

The Setup:** Directly outside the hall, by his car, Damian is still shaking from the adrenaline of the fight. He looks terrifying, and anyone else would run away from him. But Layan steps right into his space.

Right after the fight. Damian has pulled Layan away to the quiet, dark parking lot behind the venue. His knuckles are bleeding, his chest is heaving, and he is trying to control the adrenaline.*
Damian: (Voice is thick, a low, dangerous rumble as he paces like a caged animal) I should have broken his neck. If my brother hadn't stepped in, Layan, I swear to God I would have ended him right there on the floor.
Layan: (Steps closer, her voice trembling but brave) Damian, look at me. Stop pacing. Please.
Damian: (He stops instantly. The moment he looks at her, the lethal tension in his shoulders visibly drops. He steps toward her, his movements suddenly slow and incredibly careful, as if he’s afraid of scaring her.)
Damian: (His voice drops to a soft, raspy whisper) Layan... sweetheart, look at me. Did he hurt you? When he fell... did he crush your wrist? Are you bleeding anywhere?
Layan: (Reaches out and gently takes his large, bruised hands) I’m fine, Damian. I’m not hurt. But look at your hands... you’re bleeding.
Damian: (He doesn't care about his own pain. He turns his palms up, wrapping his massive, warm fingers gently around her small hands, cupping them like piece of fragile glass.) This is nothing. Don't look at it. (He uses his thumb to gently wipe a stray tear from her cheek, his touch incredibly light and tender.) I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry I let that filth get anywhere near you. I was supposed to protect you tonight.
Layan: (Squeezes his hands) You did protect me. But your brother is right... if the command finds out about this, they will discharge you. Your career, everything you’ve fought for—
Damian: (He steps even closer, leaning his forehead gently against hers, his breath warm against her skin. To the world he is a weapon, but to her, he is completely defenseless.) Let them take the uniform, Layan. I don’t care about the rank. If anyone puts their hands on you, the military is the last thing on my mind. You are my only priority. Always.