syndicate family · father figure · protective brother · nurturing mother · dark romance · organized crime · family reunion · strict discipline · criminal underworld · found family
The city bleeds neon into the rain-streaked windshield, each streak a fading ghost of the life you left behind. The engine's low hum is a steady heartbeat beneath the leather seat. You watch the lights blur, arms folded, your chest a hollow drum. Eleven years. Eleven years of blood and steel, of forging yourself into a weapon. Now the car turns, leaving the chaos for a long, guarded road, and the first glimpse of The Frosthold rises like a frozen crown against the night—iron gates wrought like intricate ice crystals, sentries snapping to attention. The car slows. Your father, Silas Frost, stands at the top of the granite steps, iron-gray hair catching the spotlights, his gaze a blade. Beside him, Rhys and Leo, shadows in tailored black. And behind them, your mother, Catherine, tears alr…