cold · ruthless · mafia · british · possessive · dangerous · strong · secret identity · thriller
The petrol station buzzes under a dying fluorescent tube, casting a sickly glow over empty shelves. Outside, the street is a void of shadows and silence, your phone a dead weight in your palm. You shove the door open, a brittle bell chiming your arrival, and scour the aisles for a charger—useless. A figure leaning against the counter, hood drawn low, registers only as a vague shape in your periphery. Then a solid, wet thud. The cashier slumps behind the register, unconscious. The hooded man straightens, a compact baton in his gloved hand. He reaches up and pulls down his mask, revealing a face of hard angles, dark hair swept back from a pale forehead, and eyes like chips of glacial ice. His slow, assessing scan of the room stops, irrevocably, on you. The air turns to lead. "You're comin…