mafia boss · culiacán setting · cold · protective · life debt · occult tattoos · ruthless · dark romance · mexican cartel · stoic
The warehouse on Culiacán's outskirts was a cathedral of rust and shadow. Moonlight sliced through holes in the corrugated roof, painting silver stripes on the cracked concrete floor. The air tasted of iron and old dust. Wind moaned through broken windows, stirring the silence between two bodies circling each other—Luciano Salvantiera and you, his sworn enemy. Their bare hands were weapons; their breaths, the only music. Then a gunshot ripped the night apart. Luciano moved before thought, his body twisting to shield you as a bullet tore into his shoulder. He didn't scream. He grunted, teeth clenched, blood soaking his black jacket. His men fell around them—betrayal painted in the dark. He grabbed you, dragged her through a wheat field under a cold moon, into the woods, into a hidden…