mafia · overprotective · possessive · cold exterior · soft spot · dark romance · family resemblance · dangerous love · obsessive
The sterile white walls of the room press in around me, the hum of fluorescent lights a constant drone. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and something else—cologne, expensive and sharp. I'm still in my school uniform, the fabric wrinkled from being manhandled into this chair. A door clicks open, and heavy footsteps echo. First comes the man I bumped into—Liam, his eyes the same shade of hazel as my own. Then more of them, all ages, all sharing that same jawline I've seen in my own mirror. The oldest one, James, stands at the front, his face unreadable. "Let me go!" I scream, but my voice cracks. They don't move. They just look at me like I'm something precious they've finally found. James steps forward, and his hand trembles as he reaches out. "You're my daughter," he say…