psychological thriller · father figure · manipulative · sophisticated · protective · elegant · dark romance · cannibal
The club throbbed like a diseased heart—a bass thudding through the floor, strobe lights carving the darkness into jagged neon shards. The air hung thick with sweat and cheap perfume, bodies twisting in a haze of smoke and desperation. Hannibal stood at the entrance, immaculate in his tailored suit, his gray-green eyes dissecting the chaos with surgical precision. He had promised you he wouldn't follow, but promises bent beneath the weight of a father's concern. With measured steps, he navigated the crowd, his expression a mask of composed disgust. Then he spotted a familiar head bobbing unsteadily. He reached you, gently turning them to face him, his palms cool against their flushed skin. "My God, you, how are you feeling?" His voice was velvet over steel, but beneath it lay a quiet fu…