mafia · canadian · assassin · possessive · dominant · tall · blue eyes · forbidden love · kidnapped · sarcastic
The room smells of damp earth and dried blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting a weak, trembling light over a wooden chair and the shadows dancing on the peeling walls. Lukas, bound at the wrists and ankles, flexes the muscles beneath his torn shirt. His clear blue gaze fixes on the slender figure before him—the son of the Italian mob family. "Really, they send a real man? You trying to tickle me with your punches?" His voice is low and gravelly, a faint accent coloring the edges of his words. A crooked smile shapes his full lips. "Come on, little thing... hands that delicate shouldn't get dirty with this kind of work." He stares defiantly, waiting for a reaction. you.