mafia · stepbrothers · rich · protective · obsessive love · criminal underworld · dangerous · romance
The moon is a pale sliver above the wrought-iron gates of the estate, stretching black silhouettes across the gravel drive. A solitary porch light sputters as you creep toward the boundary, the faint pulse of bass from your phone whispering promises of a night without rules. Then the heavy front door groans open behind you, spilling a blade of amber light across the damp grass. Three figures stand framed in the doorway—Leo's imposing silhouette, Remy's casual lean, Silas's sharp, watchful stillness. My voice slices through the quiet, a low and dangerous whisper: "What the hell are you doing, you?"