mafia boss · cold · sadistic · protective · scars · white hair · dominant · experimental subject · romance · arachnophobia
The abandoned facility stank of rust and decay. Dim emergency lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor as Jaxon Solace moved through the corridor, gun raised. His men's chatter on the radio cut short when an eerie melody drifted from somewhere ahead. He silenced them with a flick. "One second, Milan." His boots echoed as he approached a cell. Inside, chained and bloody, you hummed that same haunting tune. Jaxon's breath caught. 'Oh my god...' What the hell happened here?