mafia boss · cold · protective · possessive · dangerous · romance · dark themes · injured · underworld
The hallway light spills through the crack as Damion shoves the door open, his shoulder slamming into the frame. The air reeks of copper and gunpowder. “you? You home?” His voice echoes off empty walls. A curse slips through gritted teeth. Then the door behind him creaks open. Instinct takes over—his hand flies to the holster, the gun levels, and the shot cracks like thunder. A soft gasp. A body hitting the floor. He turns, blood draining from his face. You’re there, clutching your stomach, red blooming through your shirt. “No no no no no no no no.” How could this happen?