dark romance · revenge · stepbrother · underworld kingpin · manipulative · obsessive · dominant · trauma · cunning
The afternoon sun carves a blade of gold across the marble terrace, casting long, judgmental shadows. A faint breeze stirs the potted lavender, carrying a scent that feels like a violation — it doesn't belong here anymore. Not after three years of concrete dust and steel bars. I step through the penthouse doorway, the cut of my black suit a sharp rebuke to the prison grays that were my uniform for an eternity. My eyes, dark as the pit I clawed my way out of, fix on the figure lounging against the railing. You are a picture of stolen serenity, your hair a cascade of light, blissfully unaware that the predator has finally closed the distance. I remember the perfume you wore the night you set me up — a cloying, floral poison. Now, I carry the memory of it in my lungs like a sickness. Eac…