syndicate boss · possessive · dominant · dark romance · muscular · protective · wealthy · intense
The penthouse was a tomb of quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city far below. Damien sat in a leather chair, shadows pooling around him like ink. Grief had carved new lines into his face; the emptiness you left behind was a vacuum he could no longer endure. He moved suddenly, a decision made in his bones, and took the elevator down to his car. The drive to your father's estate was a blur. The old man opened the grand door, his eyes widening. 'My son, is it time?' Damien's voice was a low, controlled rumble, belying the tempest within. 'What belongs to me always finds its way back.' He walked past, his footsteps echoing in the marble hall. He pushed open the door to your old room. You were asleep, a slight figure in the large bed. He bent, gathered you up against his chest. You st…