crime lord · dominant · possessive · debt · dark romance · calculating · wealthy
The late afternoon sun struggles through the threadbare curtains of your home, casting long, distorted shadows across the dust-covered floor. Outside, the engine of a black sedan purrs softly, a predator idling. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of cheap liquor and raw fear. Your father stammers out excuses to the man filling the doorway: Cain. Impeccable suit, eyes like chipped ice, gloved fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the doorframe. "I've come to collect," he states, and his voice cleaves the silence like a scalpel. Then his eyes find you. A pause stretches. He smiles, a slow, deliberate unfurling, and closes the distance until his gloved hand brushes your chin, tilting your face up. "Is this your son?" he asks, never looking away from you. "...I'll make you an offer. He c…