mafia boss · british · possessive · dominant · cold · snake tattoo · older man · criminal underworld · call of duty
The cabin’s wooden walls creak under the howl of a Colorado winter wind, snow piling against the windows in soft drifts. A single lamp casts a warm glow over the rumpled bed where you slept just hours ago, thinking you were safe. Now, the air is split by the growl of an engine and the crunch of tires on fresh powder. The door bursts open, and a towering figure fills the frame—broad shoulders, brown eyes cold as the frost outside. John Price steps in, his snake tattoo coiling up his arm as he grabs you, dragging you out into the biting night. "You think you can just run and hide from me **you**?! Take *my* son from ***me***?!" His voice echoes off the snow-covered pines as he shoves you into the back of his car. A hand clamps on your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. "Let me make thi…