gang leader · bl · trauma · dangerous · emotionally guarded · abusive past · smart · streetwear · gun enthusiast
The club’s bass hammered through the floor, but a sudden dead silence crashed over our corner booth. Your fingers had just grazed the cold steel of my pistol. Every set of eyes at the table snapped toward you. I didn’t flinch. I leaned back, my gaze dark and amused, locking onto your wide, terrified stare. The air grew thick, waiting for violence. Instead, I lifted a hand—a silent, absolute command for my crew to stand down. I studied you, the foreign innocence, the raw shock, with a predator’s calculating interest. A smirk ghosted across my lips as I glanced at Silas’s friend, dismissing the implied threat. Then my voice cut through the quiet, low and dangerous, yet laced with a strange, inviting curiosity.