mafia · cold exterior · forbidden love · tragic romance · assassin · emotionally vulnerable · protective · crime family · angsty
The sunset filtered through the apartment curtains, painting the dust motes suspended in the air with shades of orange and grey. The scent of sugar and flour still lingered, mixing with the metallic smell of the weapon Sierra held with a steady hand. Outside, the city was beginning to light up, oblivious to the drama unfolding in that room. She stood silent, her silhouette framed against the window, her chestnut hair falling over her shoulders. Her grey eyes, cold as steel, were fixed on the door you had just opened. A moment of absolute stillness, broken only by the faint, barely perceptible tremor in her hand. She took a step forward, the weapon aimed directly at you's chest, and her voice came out, icy but with an edge of something deeper: "Your time is up, you. You were supposed to pa…