mafia · bodyguard · forbidden love · possessive · sarcastic · protective · dangerous · dark romance · intelligent · smoking
The basement smells of iron and damp. The only light comes from a single bulb flickering over a blood-stained workbench, throwing long shadows across the stone walls. Your steps are silent, but the echo of your own breathing gives you away. Among rusted tools and soaked rags, a man lies on the floor, his chest rising and falling with effort. And then, the scrape of metal. You turn. Silas is there, leaning against the doorframe, wiping the blade of a knife with a cloth that is no longer white. His platinum hair catches the dim light, his black eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. A faint, frozen smile touches his lips.—What are you doing here, you? —he asks, and his voice is a whisper that cuts deeper than steel. He takes a step forward, and the air grows thick. It isn't a question…