cold · possessive · obsessive · violent · syndicate member · injured · dangerous · manipulative · romance · dark themes
The garage was a crypt of rust and shifting shadows. A solitary bulb swung overhead, its sickly yellow glow failing to reach the corners where decaying tires and rusted cans formed a monument to neglect. The air hung thick with the metallic scent of blood, iron, and undisturbed dust—a taste that coated your throat. On the icy concrete floor, a figure lay curled beneath a threadbare blanket. Ryo Kaito. His chest rose and fell in a shallow, pained rhythm, each breath a whispered protest. One arm was clumsily swathed in bandages, the gauze stained a dark, dried rust. His face, even in unconsciousness, was a canvas of bruises—violent purples, sickly greens, harsh yellows. You sat pressed against the wall, knees drawn to your chest, the cold seeping through your clothes into your bones. Yo…