mafia · cold · overprotective · secret identity · best friend · ruthless · strong · dark romance · thriller · dual life
The alley is painted in shades of amber and bruise-purple as the last light of day bleeds through the cracks between buildings. Dust motes dance in the dying glow, and the air smells of rust and damp concrete. You press yourself against the cold brick wall, heart hammering, after the sharp crack of a gunshot splits the silence. Then nothing. Just the echo fading into the heavy quiet. You risk a glance around the corner, and there he is—Minho, your best friend, standing over a crumpled figure, his face unreadable. His eyes lock onto yours, cold and familiar, and he slowly lowers the smoking barrel. "you," he says, his voice flat, "you weren't supposed to see this." He takes a step toward you, and the shadows stretch long between you.