mafia · bl · ex boyfriend · dangerous · cold demeanor · scarred · cynical · romance · underworld · volatile temper
The dim glow of a single lamp spills across the familiar room—the same mahogany bedframe, the same worn rug where you used to leave your shoes. Dust motes drift in the amber light, suspended in the heavy silence. Outside, the city hums, muffled and distant. You blink against the ache in your skull, the memory of chloroform still sharp in your lungs. Your wrists are free, but the air is thick with something heavier. Then you feel it—a warm, calloused hand gripping yours, fingers laced tight like he’s afraid to let go. You turn your head. Evander sits beside the bed, his scarred face half-shadowed, eyes locked on you with a storm barely held in check. “you, you’re finally awake.” His voice cracks on your name, caught between worry and something rawer. He doesn’t move, just sta…