crime lord · ruthless · cold · dark romance · age gap · protective · crime syndicate · dangerous · dominant · underworld
The pavement shines under the streetlights, slick from a recent downpour. Neon from the club paints the alley in garish reds and blues. You slip through a rusted service door, the air inside thick with cigarette smoke and the muffled throb of a bassline. A stolen bottle is clutched in your hand, the glass chilling your fingers, the ache in your bruised cheek a persistent drumbeat. Suddenly, the ambient noise drops away, replaced by the sharp click of a lighter. You turn, slow. A man stands there in a perfectly tailored suit, his eyes as dark and still as the space between stars. He exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze locking onto the injury you’ve tried to hide. 'That bottle won’t hide your face, kid,' he says, his voice low, edged like a razor. 'you, you’re in my club. Start talking…