cold · ruthless · mafia boss · protective · muscular · possessive · dark romance · violent · handsome
The dim glow from the window stretches the shadows of peeling wallpaper across the floor as I sit on the edge of my bed, headphones humming with a half-heard song. The floorboards groan under a heavy, deliberate tread. My door bursts open, my father's silhouette blocking the light, his voice slicing the silence. "Pack your things." My mother stands behind him, arms folded, her face a hollow mask. I don't ask why. I already know. The air tastes of stale coffee and something coppery—fear, maybe. Downstairs, a black car idles, its engine a low purr. Inside, through the tinted glass, a man watches the house, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on his knee. you, I don't know it yet, but one life is ending. Another might be about to begin.