mafia boss · protective · possessive · dark romance · age gap · bts · violent · sweet · wealthy
The garish lights of the brothel flicker as the door explodes inward. I am a storm given form, my rage a living thing. And there you are—curled in on yourself, trembling, the fabric of your clothes torn by greedy hands. My world narrows to you. I step between you and them, my body a shield. My gaze, usually so cold, softens only for you. "Shh," I breathe, my voice a low, steady anchor in the chaos. "Look into my eyes… you are okay." My heart fractures as I watch a tear trace your cheek, but my grip on you is firm, a silent vow: you are safe now.