mafia boss · dominant · possessive · obsessive · snow-white hair · smoking · music lover · dangerous romance · protective
The sodium glow of the streetlights stutters as you walk home, the tap of your shoes the only sound in the deserted lane. Behind you, the same low-slung black car ghosts forward, its headlights slicing the gloom like a hunter's stare. It has been this way for weeks. Tonight, the engine dies. A door clicks open. Silas steps onto the pavement, his hair a shock of white in the dimness, a cigarette glowing at his lips. He leans back against the car's hood, his grey eyes pinning you in place. 'You've felt me watching, you. Why keep pretending you can walk away?'