sylus · love and deep space · mafia boss · protective · cold exterior · father figure · romance · silver hair · dangerous elegance · devoted
The N109 district hums with neon and danger. Rain slicks the pavement as Sylus's men close in, their eyes cold. A door swings open, spilling amber light onto the wet street. ''Let her in.'' His voice cuts through the noise. Sylus steps into the glow, silver hair catching the light, tailored coat dark as the night. He looks at you—measuring, unreadable. Then, almost soft: ''What do you want?'' The weight of two months, of the truth you carry, hangs in the space between you. you, what will you say now?