Cassian Vale was built to survive. Former black-ops weapon. Mercenary commander. The kind of man people whispered about long after the blood dried. He doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t speak unless necessary. And absolutely does not let people touch him. Then he meets Evelyn Mercer. A reckless underground mechanic with grease on her cheeks, unpaid parking tickets stuffed in her pockets, and a terrifying lack of survival instincts. The first time Cassian sees her, she crashes an ice cream truck into the middle of his assassination. The second time, she insults his armored vehicle to his face. The third time? She stitches a bullet wound into his shoulder while threatening to poison his coffee if he twitches again. Evie thinks Cassian is emotionally constipated, vaguely homicidal, and incapable of acting like a normal human being. Unfortunately, she might be falling for him anyway. And Cassian— Cassian is beginning to realize that Evelyn Mercer is far more dangerous than any weapon he’s ever faced. Because for the first time in years… The monster is hesitating.

The men at Blackridge decided Emily Carter was weak long before they learned her name. Quiet women didn’t survive there. Not in a place built from concrete, bruises, and men who mistook cruelty for strength. From the second she arrived, the jokes started. “Careful,” Ryan laughed during drills. “She might break a nail.” Marcus made her carry extra weight packs. Jake called her “Princess” every chance he got. And Emily? She never reacted. Never argued. Never fought back. That only made them push harder. Because silence in Blackridge wasn’t seen as dignity. It was seen as permission. Then came the locker room. Steam curled through the fluorescent lights as Emily pulled off her training shirt—and the entire room went dead silent. Scars. Massive ones. Burned deep across her back and shoulders. Jagged. Twisted. Like someone had tried to tear her apart and failed. For one second, nobody laughed. Then Ryan smirked. “Well damn,” he said. “What attacked you? A lawn mower?” Marcus stepped closer, staring openly now. “Maybe that’s why she acts so weird,” he muttered. “Maybe she’s damaged.” The laughter came back louder this time. Crueler. Emily grabbed for her shirt, but Marcus caught the fabric first. “Relax,” he mocked softly. “We’re just curious.” Her breathing broke instantly. Hands trembling. Eyes unfocused. And for the first time since arriving at Blackridge— Emily Carter cracked. She dropped onto the cold tile floor trying to breathe while the room watched her fall apart. Some laughed. Some stared. Nobody helped. Then the locker room door exploded open. “STEP AWAY FROM HER.” The voice hit the room like a gunshot. General Robert Hayes stood in the doorway, eyes burning with something far worse than anger. Recognition. The room went silent. Hayes looked at Emily. Then at the scars on her back. And suddenly his face changed. Not shock. Not pity. Guilt. Heavy. Immediate. Devastating. Marcus frowned. “Sir…?” Hayes stepped forward slowly. Then spoke words that made the blood drain from every face in the room. “You idiots,” he said quietly. "Shut your mouths! Do you even know who she is?" Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Then Hayes looked directly at Jake Miller. And what he said next nearly destroyed him.

At Noctis Academy, the empire does not train students. It creates weapons. After her father is executed for treason, Evelyn Valehart survives by becoming invisible. Quiet girls live longer in royal kingdoms. Especially at Noctis Academy— the empire’s brutal gothic war institution where noble heirs learn strategy, magic, and how to kill without hesitation. Evelyn arrives with nothing except: a scholarship, her dead father’s encrypted journal, and a dangerous suspicion that the empire buried something monstrous beneath the academy cathedral. She does not expect to attract the attention of Lucien Mordane. The crown prince. The empire’s most feared war heir. The boy whispered about in candlelit corridors like a curse. Cold. Untouchable. Violent. Students fear him enough to lower their eyes when he walks past. But Evelyn notices something nobody else does: Lucien looks exhausted. As political conspiracies tighten around Noctis and students begin disappearing beneath the academy, Evelyn uncovers terrifying truths about forbidden shadow rituals, dead royal heirs, and the horrifying experiments that transformed Lucien into something more weapon than human. The closer she gets to the truth— the closer Lucien gets to her. And the empire’s perfect prince begins unraveling in dangerous ways: watching her too closely, sleeping outside her door, threatening anyone who touches her, losing control whenever she’s hurt. Because Evelyn becomes the first person to look at Lucien Mordane and see: not a monster. Just a boy taught his entire life that love was weakness. But some kingdoms are built on blood. Some princes are born to destroy empires. And some love stories are less about salvation— and more about choosing who you’re willing to ruin the world for.

Kael Vanth survived black sites, covert wars, psychological conditioning, and years of being turned into something more useful than human. Tier-One mercenary. BLACK VEIL operative. A masked ghost people whispered about in locked rooms. The kind of man governments denied existing while secretly pointing toward impossible problems and saying: > “Send him.” He was silent, lethal, emotionally unreadable. A man who wore tactical gloves like skin and violence like breathing. Even other mercenaries kept their distance. As for someone like that— Eliana Vale, civilian translator, professional liar, and deeply unqualified emotional disaster, had one immediate thought: > “He looks like he hasn’t slept since the fall of Rome.” Then one night, Kael watched her calmly steal classified intel from beneath the nose of an armed contractor while pretending to flirt over champagne. He was monitoring the room from a rooftop sniper position. One second he was calculating bullet trajectory. The next? Eliana smiled at the target, slipped a data drive into her sleeve, shattered a wine glass into a guard’s throat, and walked out before the body even hit the floor. Kael forgot to pull the trigger. For exactly four seconds. The longest distraction he’d had in years. ... Later, Eliana sat cross-legged on the floor of a freezing safehouse, translating encrypted files while six armed operatives cleaned blood off their gear nearby. No one spoke. Mostly because Ghost was standing behind her. Watching. Eliana didn’t look up. > “Does your organization offer therapy, or is unresolved trauma part of the uniform?” The room went dead silent. Kane slowly stopped breathing. Because nobody joked with Ghost. Nobody. Kael stood motionless beside the table, skull-black mask tilted slightly toward her. Then finally: > “Eliana.” She glanced up lazily. > “That’s my name, yes. Excellent observational skills.” His grey eyes lowered briefly to the bruise on her wrist. Then to the knife hidden in her boot. Then back to her face. > “You’re hiding something.” Eliana smiled too quickly. > “So are you.” Another long silence. Heavy. Dangerous. Then Kael stepped closer. Close enough for her to hear the roughness in his breathing beneath the mask. > “You should be afraid of me.” Eliana looked directly into his eyes. > “You keep saying that like it’s a warning instead of a confession.” ① Emotionally repressed masked mercenary × emotionally guarded civilian liar ② He was trained to kill without hesitation. She’s the first thing that ever made him hesitate. ③ Slow burn / masked antihero / mutual obsession / black humor / PTSD mercenary / dangerous emotional dependency / “she makes the weapon want to become human.”

In a city torn by war, fearless journalist Clara Hart captures chaos through her lens—until a hidden landmine nearly kills her. Ethan Cross, a skilled bomb disposal expert, saves her life, igniting a spark neither expected. Amid explosions, betrayal, and loss, survival is their first priority—but passion is unavoidable. Can love survive the battlefield, or will war claim more than just their hearts?

Enemies to Lovers｜Forced Proximity｜Age Gap｜ HE｜ Both equally strong "Younger aggressive crybaby top × older even more aggressive bottom." On the very first day they met, Lucian threw a fit of his typical young-master temper, only to be pinned to the floor and beaten by Sebastian. After the dust settled, Sebastian wiped his hands clean. "Have dinner ready in half an hour, or the beating continues." Lucian sobbed his way through the cooking, dumping a pound of salt into the steak. Later, Lucian tried to get revenge by drugging him, but it only caused Sebastian’s old back injury to flare up. He couldn't move, let alone use the bathroom. Lucian ended up kneeling by the bed to serve him, crying even harder than the man in pain. Further down the road— Lucian: "I’ve seen every inch of you by now. We’re the closest people in the world." Sebastian: "A hired nurse could have seen just as much." Lucian hugged him, his eyes reddening. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be your nurse forever." Sebastian looked down at the hand surreptitiously wandering around his waist and let out a cold sneer. "If that hand doesn't behave, I’ll break the other one too." Lucian was the definition of a spoiled heir—until his father’s empire crumbled overnight in Celaya, leaving him with nothing but a suitcase and a cold, sharp-tongued guardian in Crestmont. Sebastian, a high-stakes attorney with a disciplined life and a hidden past, wasn't about to play babysitter. On their first day, Lucian's temper flared, and Sebastian answered with a lesson the boy wouldn't forget. In this house, there are rules. Break them, and you’ll pay. But as Lucian learns to cook, clean, and cry in Sebastian’s shadow, the line between hatred and obsession begins to blur. He’s a crybaby in the kitchen, but a predator in the making.