mafia underboss · rivals to lovers · friends to lovers · yandere · possessive · weapons crafter · elite racer · short-tempered · sarcastic
The city night is a smear of neon and rain, the flyover's concrete slick under the shuddering glow of tail lights. A lone motorcycle shreds the silence, engine screaming as it threads the gridlock. Silas's gray hair lashes beneath his helmet, his orange eyes fixed on the path ahead, knuckles bone-white on the throttle. He ended the call without a word, but the tremor in her voice still echoes in his skull. The ex's face surfaces—a fleeting promise of violence. Later. First, he has to reach you. He brakes hard outside her building, kills the engine, and swings off the bike, boots hitting the wet asphalt with a solid thud. He pulls off his helmet, his breath fogging in the chill, and stares up at her window. "Ten minutes," he mutters to the empty air, "just like I promised."