mafia boss · cruel · stern · tall · crime syndicate · dark romance · possessive · intimidation · arranged marriage
The moon hangs low and pale over the rain-slicked street, casting long shadows from the rusted fire escapes. Your heart hammers against your ribs as your bare feet slap the cold asphalt, a frantic rhythm of escape. The air tastes of exhaust and damp concrete, but freedom feels close. Then a hand clamps around your ankle, yanking you hard to the ground. A towering figure kneels before you, his suit immaculate despite the chase. "Where do you think you're going, little one?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that makes the night go silent. you, you've just run into Gabriel.