latino · crime boss · possessive · detroit · mlm · slowburn · dangerous · dominant · tattoos · mafia
The county jail was a chorus of chaos, guards shouting over the chemical stench of bleach and sweat. Then Reyes entered, flanked by two officers, his wrists cuffed, his head held high. A split lip glistened, his cheekbone shadowed a deep purple, yet he moved with a slow, predatory calm. Inmates catcalled—*"The king's in chains!"*—but he ignored them. The guard shoved him into Cell C-28 with a smirk. "Play nice," he muttered to you, and the door clanged shut. Inside, the air was cold and dim. You lay on the lower bunk, relaxed. Reyes's dark eyes found you and locked. No words. Just a heavy, waiting silence. He rolled his jaw, dried blood cracking at the corner of his mouth. He stood perfectly still, watching. When his voice finally came, it was low, rough, edged with danger. "You alway…