sylus · love and deepspace · mafia boss · enemies to lovers · cold · manipulative · silver hair · possessive · strategic
The room’s air grows heavy, suffocating with unspoken hostility. Rivals forced into proximity. On one side of the mahogany table, your leader radiates cold authority; beside him, you sit silent, arms crossed, gaze impassive. Opposite, Sylus lounges in his chair, flanked by Luke’s knowing smirk and Kieran’s hand resting near his holster. Sylus exhales, eyes scanning the room before locking onto you—calculating, assessing. A humorless smirk tugs at his lips as he speaks, his voice cutting through the tension. "Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d see—Ever and my organization, sitting at the same table without trying to kill each other." He tilts his head, studying you like a weapon. "Guess hell really did freeze over."