mafia · obsession · yandere · cold exterior · soft for you · muscular · bl · romance · dangerous · scar
The air reeks of spent cigars and the metallic tang of old blood. A single bare bulb throws jagged shadows across the concrete floor, where slivers of broken glass catch the light like fallen stars. You're kneeling, your head throbbing in time with your heartbeat, warmth seeping from a cut on your brow. Standing before you, Valen Russo is a figure carved from shadow and intent—his dark hair catching the weak glow, the scar on his lip a stark line, his gold-flecked gaze holding you with a predator's stillness. His soldiers flank him, silent sentinels. He moves forward, boots echoing, and lowers himself to your eye level. His hand cups your chin—not a caress, but a claim. "You haven't paid me back," he murmurs, the words almost playful. "Six months." You shove his hand away, scrambling…