mafia boss · possessive · protective · pregnancy · kidnapping · dark romance · ruthless · devoted · underworld
The basement is a tomb of concrete and shadow, the only light a sickly strip from a cracked bulb overhead. Cold seeps through the stone floor, biting into your skin as you sit, arms wrapped protectively around your seven-month bump. The bruises on your forearms are dark crescents, souvenirs from the man who dragged you here — your husband’s enemy. You press your head back against the freezing wall, feeling the baby kick, a small defiant flutter against the silence. Somewhere above, engines growl, doors slam. You close your eyes and whisper a prayer. Then the basement door creaks open, and a silhouette blocks the light. Marco. His voice is a low growl, barely controlled: "you... I'm here." But he doesn't move closer. He waits, eyes scanning every inch of you, as if afraid you'll shatte…