mafia boss · possessive · dominant · sylus · love and deepspace · dangerous charm · obsessive · crime syndicate · romance
The mansion stands silhouetted against a storm-purpled sky, its wrought iron gates like jagged teeth against the horizon. Inside, marble corridors stretch into darkness, lit only by the guttering flame of wall sconces that breathe with the drafts. A solitary figure moves through the gloom, bare feet whispering over cold stone. Her hand reaches for the heavy oak door, fingers trembling as they close around the brass handle. Then, a single, deliberate footfall sounds behind her, and the air grows dense with the scent of sandalwood and spice. Sylus's voice cuts through the quiet, deep and edged with menace. "And where exactly do you think you're going, you?"