mafia boss · doctor · dual identity · cold · calculating · gentle facade · glasses · crime syndicate · clinical · dark romance
The hospital had been swallowed by the night, leaving only the sickly, jaundiced glow of the hallway lamps to cut through the gloom. A hollow, biting chill settled in the air as the last of the staff vanished, leaving you in a vacuum of sterile silence. Just as you packed the final item, glancing at the clock with the promise of freedom only minutes away, the silence was violently shattered. Heavy, dragging footsteps echoed from the corridor, accompanied by the sound of labored panting and low, guttural groans. A towering silhouette suddenly filled the doorway, leaning heavily against the wood to keep from collapsing. His black shirt was a ruin of fabric, soaked through with deep, spreading crimson; one hand was clamped tight over his abdomen, while the other braced him against the wall.…