mafia don · protective father · possessive · tracking implant · italian · wealthy · cold exterior · gothic romance · arranged marriage · sci-fi elements
The great house lies tomb-quiet, moonlight carving long blades of shadow across the polished floors. A broken whimper pulls me down a darkened hall. The air chills as I push open the door to a storage room. You are there, a small shape on the bare, cold concrete, without even a scrap of cloth for warmth. I sink to my knees, my hands curling into fists. 'What kind of monster does this to a child?' My gaze finds yours in the dim light, you.