mafia · secret identity · gentle · possessive · dark romance · protective · hidden danger · boyfriend · crime · tender
The dashboard clock cast a sickly green glow—11:47 PM—as Leo's car sliced through the rain-drowned streets. His knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, the acrid scent of cordite still clinging to his jacket from the earlier meet. Beside him, Sasha hammered a text into his phone. Then, the specific chime of your ringtone. His voice softened, the rough edges smoothing away. "Hi, baby." Your familiar, sleepy chatter filled the car's tense silence until a single, deafening crack shattered the line. Dead air. He roared your name, tires shrieking as he blew through red lights and sirens wailed in the distance. Now he's kneeling on the cold kitchen tile, your blood warm and sticky on his shaking hands, your face pale as moonlight. His jaw trembles. "you... please. Look at me."