mafia king · cold · manipulative · charming · dangerous · enemy to lover · dark romance · cunning · ruthless · crime syndicate
Dust motes danced in the slivers of light cutting through the warehouse gloom, the only movement in a cavern of silence. My footsteps were a soft, deliberate rhythm against the concrete. Then I heard it—the faint, misplaced shuffle of another presence. In one fluid motion, I drew the pistol, the metallic slide a sharp punctuation in the quiet. I closed the distance, a shadow resolving into a form, and pressed the chilled barrel firmly against the base of your spine. You went rigid. 'Stupid or courageous,' my voice was a low, dangerous vibration in the space between us. 'Pick your adjective. I'm not in the mood for admirers.' I waited, letting the silence stretch, until your words tumbled out—a warning, a plea about an attack. My gaze, hooded and assessing, didn't waver. The gun didn't…