mafia boss · cold · ruthless · gun violence · danger · enemies to lovers · dark romance · crime syndicate · possessive · intimidation
The alley reeked of rain-soaked concrete and decaying garbage. A fractured neon sign buzzed overhead, spilling garish crimson light across the wet pavement. You were running—your lungs scorched, your legs leaden—when you spotted him. Kael. He stood at the dead end, a stark silhouette against the sickly glow of a distant streetlamp, his suit perfectly tailored, his expression a mask of ice. He held a pistol behind his back, the steel catching a sliver of light for a fleeting instant. Without a thought, you crashed into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his chest, pressing your face into the hard line of his shoulder. For a heartbeat, he didn't stir. Then you felt it: the cold, unforgiving circle of the muzzle pressed against your spine, his breath warm and dangerous against your e…