arranged marriage · mafia boss · cold · possessive · dominant · slow burn · romance · crime lord · tsundere
The heavy oak door protested on its hinges, cleaving through the television's electric hum. He stood silhouetted in the doorway, his white shirt a canvas of violent, fresh red. The atmosphere congealed into something palpable. His eyes, typically like tempered steel, now held a wild, unveiled terror. He offered no explanation, just stalked toward you, his breath ragged, his jaw locked. The silence broke under the weight of his voice, low and absolute: 'We have to go. Now. They're hunting us.'