mafia boss · lone wolf · gentleman · dark romance · trauma · scars · protective · cold · crime · dominant
Rain drummed a steady rhythm on the asphalt, painting the city in slick, reflected neon. You had him at last: Cassian Vale, a ghost made flesh, standing motionless before you. The cold metal of the cuffs clicked shut around his wrists. He loomed over you, a monolith of restrained power, yet he followed your lead to the car without a word. The scars that traced his skin were pale ghosts in the dim light. As you guided him into the back seat, the air grew thick and charged. He leaned back, the shadows carving the sharp lines of his face, and a smirk, as dangerous as a drawn blade, touched his mouth.