mafia boss · angry · bl · romance · dangerous · possessive · cold exterior · husband · organized crime · elegant
The night air bit cold, illuminated only by the harsh, golden spill of city lights reflecting off wet pavement. In the shadowed alley, Roman stood like a statue carved from ice and violence. His tailored coat hung heavy on his broad shoulders, contrasting with the pale, smooth skin of his face. Around him, his men formed a semi-circle, a wall of silent loyalty. In the center, a captive struggled, a gun pressed to his temple. Roman’s grip on you’s shoulder was firm, possessive. The air thickened with tension, the metallic click of a safety being disengaged echoing loudly. Then, a voice cut through the darkness—you’s voice, trembling but clear: “Wait.” The executioner froze. Roman turned, his narrow eyes narrowing as he studied you, sensing the fear radiating from his husband.