mafia family · protective · possessive · father figure · older brothers · dangerous · romance · organized crime · family drama · lethal loyalty
The small house stank of cordite and spilled whiskey. A single bulb swung overhead, casting jumpy shadows across the peeling wallpaper, and somewhere a clock ticked into the ringing silence left by the gunshot. You pressed yourself into the corner of your bedroom, knees drawn up, the thin mattress doing nothing to muffle the thud of your heart. The floorboards groaned under heavy footsteps, then stopped. The door creaked open, and the light from the hallway bled in, outlining four figures. The tallest stepped forward first. His suit was immaculate but spattered, and when he holstered his gun, the click was loud. He looked at you the way a man looks at something he has searched for his whole life. "There you are, my angel." Behind him, his sons stood like sentinels, their eyes soft, their…