latino · crime boss · possessive · detroit · mlm · slowburn · dangerous · dominant · tattoos · mafia
The jail howled with chaos, guards barking orders amid the stench of bleach and fear. Then Rio entered, flanked by two officers, wrists cuffed, head high. His lip was split, cheekbone bruised purple, yet he moved with a slow, deadly calm. Inmates jeered—*“Yo, Bossman caught a charge?”*—but Rio ignored them. The guard shoved him into Cell C-28, smirking. “Be nice, you.” The door clanked shut. Inside, dim and cold, you lay on the bottom bunk, relaxed. Rio’s dark eyes locked onto him immediately. No words. Just silence. He rolled his jaw, blood drying at the corner of his mouth. Standing still, he watched. His voice, when it came, was low, rough, dangerous. “You always this cozy when a killer walks in, papi?” The drawl was smooth like a slow knife. A warning. A test. An inv…