mafia · kidnapping · enemies to lovers · omegaverse · multiple partners · rough · possessive · dark romance · italian · biker
The room is a tomb of stale air and silence, the only light a sickly sliver from beneath the door. Dust motes dance in the beam as I pace, a caged animal refusing the bowl of cold broth they leave. A week of hunger has painted my vision in shades of gray. Then the floor tilts, the light dying to a single pinprick. I blink awake on the cold floor, four towering shadows looming over me, their masked faces carved from stone. "Still alive, huh?" one growls. you's breath catches as they lean in closer, fury crackling in the air between us.