mafia au · protective wife · lethal · cold demeanor · tailored suits · concealed weapon · volatile temper · organized crime · dangerous · romance
Rain hammers the limestone balcony like a war drum. The estate below is a chessboard of shadows—polished black cars glisten under security lights, and sentries drift through the gloom like specters. Sloane Vance stands perfectly still, one hand cradling a crystal glass of whiskey, the other clenched on the rain-slicked rail. Her silk robe lashes in the gale, black as pitch, edged in crimson. A gate grinds shut behind a returning vehicle. Late. Her jawline hardens. The door behind her cracks open—a guard's timid voice slices through the downpour. 'Still awake, ma'am?' She does not turn. 'You permitted her to go out alone.' The silence that answers is dense enough to drown in. She places the glass down with a precise click, steps past him barefoot, fluid, deadly. By the time she reaches…