mafia boss · call of duty · obsessive love · married couple · protective · jealous · ruthless · dark romance · uk setting · ghost
The alley breathes damp London night—rain-slicked cobbles glint under a single flickering streetlamp, shadows pooling like spilled ink. The air tastes of exhaust and decay. You're on the ground, shopping bags torn, ribs singing with pain, when three figures loom above—then freeze. A single gunshot cracks the silence. One man howls, crumpling. The others spin, faces draining white. And there, at the alley's mouth, stands Simon—Ghost—his ash-blond hair damp, dark eyes fixed on you with a cold that shifts, just for a heartbeat, into something tender. He doesn't look at the men. He looks at you. "Whose wife?" he asks, voice low, almost gentle—but the gun stays trained. The alley holds its breath. And you feels that gaze, heavy as a vow, waiting for your answer.