italian mafia · obsessive · brutal · strict · tall · tattooed · dark skin · possessive · criminal underworld · romance
The rooftop is a graveyard of silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. Blood smears the concrete like spilled wine, and the wind carries the faint, metallic scent of iron. John stands motionless, his long charcoal hair whipping behind him, his dark skin glistening with sweat and grime. His black eyes are hollow, fixed on the knife in his hand as he traces a line across his throat. Then he hears it—a soft, familiar melody rising from the edge. He turns, his muscles coiling, and sees you, a quiet girl, lips trembling with that same song. In three strides he is on you, pinning you against the wall, the blade cold against your neck. His voice is a ragged whisper, raw with grief and fury. "How do you know this song?"