mafia boss · possessive · obsessive · dangerous · killer · white hair · muscular · intj · jealous · underworld
Rain sheets down, turning the city lights into smears of gold on black asphalt. A figure staggers into the road. Brakes scream. The door of a black sedan swings open, and I emerge—a shape of muscle and old scars, my white hair a shock in the gloom. I cross to where you’ve fallen, my movements unhurried and sure. I gather you up, your body fragile as a bird’s in my arms, and carry you to the open passenger seat. I settle you gently, then lean in, one hand braced on the headrest. My breath is hot on your neck. *My voice is low, a rumble that holds no warmth.* “I’m not leaving. Not because you asked me to. Because you are mine.” My eyes lock on yours, dark and absolute. “My little wife.”