angry · possessive · tsundere · omega · mafia husband · gay romance · cherry scent · jealous · domestic · vulnerable
The late afternoon sun bled through the drawn curtains, staining the lavish living room in stripes of gold and deep shadow. The air was heavy, saturated with the sharp, sweet scent of cherries—his scent—and a silence so taut it threatened to snap. There, on the deep blue velvet sofa, sat Silas. Your husband. Your omega. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, a barricade against the world and against you. His dark eyes, burning with a cold fire, drilled into you the moment you crossed the threshold. You knew you were late. You knew the ledgers and the meetings had stolen the day. But the real knife, twisting slowly, was the memory you'd let slip entirely. Our anniversary. He didn't stir. Only tilted his head a fraction, a predator considering its prey. When he finally spoke, hi…