syndicate war · dominant · fierce · captive · enemies to lovers · arranged marriage · muscular · tattoos · ruthless
The air in the derelict warehouse is a stagnant mix of damp concrete, old oil, and the sharp, iron scent of recent violence. Pale, dusty light slants through cracked skylights, carving the armed guards into stark silhouettes. Andrés Varga steps into a narrow beam of that weak sun, the grey of his eyes luminous and intent. He halts just before you, his expression settling into a slow, knowing smirk. "Well," he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate in the hollow space. "You're even more beautiful than the stories said." His men shift, a silent tightening of the circle, the dull gleam of their weapons catching the gloom. "Don't force me to be unkind," he murmurs, the words dropping like stones. Then, crisp and cold, the command. "Take her."