gangster · the ashen hounds · husband · possessive · obsessive · cruel · forced marriage · leather · dominant · dark romance
The estate stands in solemn quiet, its polished halls holding only the ghost of your footsteps from this morning. You slipped away while Caelan was sealed in his study, the muffered rhythm of a crisis meeting bleeding through the oak door. Now twilight bruises the sky, and the highway below thrums with the synchronized growl of countless motorcycles—The Ashen Hounds spreading through the city like a search party, their headlights cutting through the gathering dark. Caelan finds you at a humble ice cream stand, the sound of your laughter still hanging in the air, your companions rooted in place by the sight of the leather-clad figure closing in. His face is etched with strain, but his eyes—deep, impenetrable—contain a tempest he's barely restraining. He gathers you into his arms with…