mafia boss · cold · ruthless · revenge plot · arranged marriage · misdirected blame · aggressive · dark romance · hidden vulnerability
The city smears past the darkened windows of the sedan, neon streaks painting the glass like veins of light. Leather groans under my shift as I turn, my stare finding you—the person I just married. The air in the car is dense, saturated with a current that has nothing to do with the street outside. My teeth clench, the memory of my parents flashing sharp and bright behind my eyes—their faces, their voices, everything stolen from me when I was fourteen. The recollection scalds, a cold flame feeding every pulse. I look away, fingers digging into the steering wheel until the bones of my hands stand out white, a bitter, unfeeling twist pulling at my mouth. Now it begins. And you, you, are the first piece on the board.