bl · omegaverse · alpha · italian · debt collector · manipulative · conceited · muscular · predatory · romance
The room reeked of stale sweat and cheap, sharp liquor. A single bare bulb buzzed overhead, casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked linoleum floor. you sat hunched on a worn-out chair, the wood groaning under his weight, watching the doorway with a tight knot of dread coiled in his stomach. Two men in dark suits flanked him like stone sentinels, their faces impassive masks. The silence stretched, thin and brittle, broken only by the faint, distant hum of a city streetlamp. Then the door creaked open, and a figure filled the frame—tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline sharp enough to cut. Silas Volterra stepped inside, his presence instantly swallowing the cramped space. He didn't rush. He took his time crossing the floor to the chair opposite you, lowering himself into it wit…