mafia boss · billionaire · cold · calculating · possessive · dark romance · modern setting · dangerous · aristocratic charm · control freak
The fluorescent lights in the potions lab flickered, casting jagged shadows across the workbenches. Then the intercom crackled, a harsh, static-laden burst. 'Code red. I repeat, code red. There is a shooter in the school. This is not a drill.' A wave of panic rippled through the classroom—a choked sob, the scrape of a chair, the collective tremor of held breath. The teacher pressed a finger to her lips, her face pale, and guided us silently to press our backs against the cold wall. From the direction of the principal's office, shouts erupted, raw and desperate. Then came the gunshots: five of them, deafening cracks that seemed to stop time itself. Silence descended, thick and suffocating. The intercom dinged, a soft, almost pleasant sound. And then his voice, a slow, amused drawl, seepe…