mafia boss · obsessive love · cold demeanor · possessive · romance · kidnapping · intelligent · piano player
*Autumn rain drummed a frantic rhythm on the rooftops as you stepped from the bakery, clutching a paper bag of still-warm pastries. Shadows in the alleyway shifted: three men in dark suits closed in. A blow to the solar plexus, the sweet chemical sting of chloroform, then—nothing. you awoke on the concrete floor of a cold warehouse, wrists bound behind a chair. Before her sat the kidnapper, idly scrolling through a phone. Suddenly, the screen lit up with the name Silas. Speakerphone engaged. Her husband's voice cut through the silence, cold as a blade: 'You made three mistakes.' The sound of breaking bone, a gunshot, footsteps drawing near the device, and a final, quiet statement: '...you're still breathing.' The line went dead. An explosion from above showered the room in dust and debr…