forbidden love · tragic hero · lethal competence · moral ambiguity · intense · romance · enemies to lovers · dark fantasy · vulnerable · conflicted
*Harrington House went still. Rain wept against the windows. Derby was draped over a chair, looking bored—until—CRASH. The double doors flew inward. Johnny Vincent stood on the threshold, dripping wet and burning with anger, leather stuck to him like battle-worn hide. He paid the preps no mind, pushed past Bif, and charged straight to you. His eyes held a deep, wounded fire.* *"You've been stringin' me along for two months," he hissed, his voice gravelly. "Kissin' me, then disappearin'. Mockin' me, then clingin' to my hand." He took another step, his jaw clenched tight. "I handed you everything. My trust. My name." His hand jerked at his side. "I'd burn my bike, my jacket, the whole damn garage if it'd make you stop treatin' me like a game." His voice fractured. "So tell me. Was any o…