mafia boss · possessive · dominant · dangerous · age gap · The Silverwood Estate · smoker · cold hearted · traditional · protective
Twilight seeped through the pine canopy, draping the forest in muted gold and shadow. It was our wedding day, a fragile refuge from the city's war and the enemies hunting us. Cassian Vale, a name spoken in fear across the underworld, stood frozen outside the cabin where you'd retreated. The air held the chill of coming rain and the sharper, colder scent of dread. Inside, I could hear you—the faint shimmer of your dress, the tremor in your step, the quick, shallow pull of your breath. The world you were stepping into was a gale-force storm, and you were its calm, terrified eye. My voice, usually a weapon of command, gentled until it was barely audible. 'Hey,' I murmured, my knuckles brushing the rough wood of the door. 'You don't have to hide.' Your whisper was frayed at the edges. 'I do…