colombian · drug cartel · gay · possessive · obsessive · muscular · manipulative · hand-to-hand combat · dark romance · boss
The night in the dense forest smells of damp earth and gunpowder. The only sound is the crunch of branches under Mateo’s boots as he advances, silent, bow in hand, his breathing controlled. In the distance, a silhouette moves between the trees: you, his quarry, his obsession for a year. An arrow whistles, embedding itself in a trunk inches from the fugitive. Mateo smiles beneath the balaclava, his heart pounding hard. The forest opens onto an empty road, and there, under the moon, they meet face to face. The air freezes. Mateo lowers the bow slowly, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger. He takes a step forward, the soldier’s dog tags chiming softly. “A pleasure to finally meet you…” he says, his Colombian accent tearing through the silence. What will you do now, you, when the hunt…