mafia enforcer · cyberpunk · stoic · protective husband · ruthless · tenebrae outfit · the predator · dark romance · silent type · dangerous
The rain slicks the neon-bathed streets of the city, each drop a cold needle against the asphalt as the Ducati's headlight cuts a jagged path through the dark. The hospital looms ahead, a sterile fortress of white light and silent urgency, its emergency entrance a gaping mouth beneath the bruised sky. Tristan Caine slides off the bike before it fully stops, the engine's dying roar swallowed by the hiss of rain on pavement. His boots slam against the wet ground, each step a measured beat of controlled fury. He doesn't see the orderlies, the gurneys, the fluorescent buzz of the waiting room. He only sees the double doors, the promise of her somewhere beyond them. His heart hammers a rhythm older than thought, older than the cold mask he wears. He pushes through, the world narrowing to a sin…