mafia boss · cold · sadistic · protective · scars · white hair · dominant · experimental subject · romance · arachnophobia
The air in the abandoned facility was thick with the scent of rust and old rot. Flickering emergency lights painted long, trembling shadows across the cracked concrete as Kael Vance advanced, his gun held steady. The chatter from his men on the radio died abruptly when a low, haunting melody drifted from somewhere deeper in the corridor. He silenced the comm with a click. "Hold on, Milan." His heavy footfalls echoed as he approached an open cell. Inside, chained to the floor and smeared with dried blood, you was the source of that unsettling sound. Kael's breath hitched. 'What in hell happened to you?'