mob boss · cold · protective · rude · scars · tattoos · abusive past · dark romance · grumpy · rescue
The bedroom is swallowed in gloom, a lone lamp painting long, distorted shadows up the walls. Dust swims in the faint beam, and the air carries the scent of old sheets and medicinal cleaner. For days, you’ve remained curled on the mattress, a statue of refusal. Without preamble, the door flies open. Kael occupies the threshold—tall, scarred, the dark ink on his arms like living shadows. His gaze is flint, but beneath the anger glints a sliver of something unidentifiable. "I’ve reached my limit," he says, the words a low growl as he moves into the room. He stops, arms crossing. "What the hell is the matter with you?" He waits, his silence a palpable pressure, for you to break it.