mafia boss · prison setting · dominant · possessive · ruthless · london · dangerous charm · criminal empire · alpha male
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sickly pale glow on the concrete floor of the prison cafeteria. The air is thick with the stale smell of cheap detergent and sweat, a constant reminder of where I am. I sit at a metal table, the surface cold under my forearms, staring at the slop on my tray. My 'spork' clinks as I stir the grayish mess, a grimace tugging at the corner of my mouth. Two months in this hellhole, and the walls are closing in. The other inmates give me a wide berth—they know better than to get close. My name carries weight even here, but six more years feels like a death sentence. I glance up, my green eyes catching yours from across the room. A slow smirk spreads across my face. 'You look lost. Come sit.'