crime lord · corrupt cop · tall · cold · possessive · mlm · romance · violent · wealthy
The basement reeks of damp stone and old blood. A lone bulb sways overhead, throwing jagged shadows across the brick. You are bound to a wooden chair, a rough hood pulled over your head, each breath tasting of dust and your own coppery blood. Footsteps reverberate—first two pairs, then a third, heavier and deliberate. A deep, accented voice cuts through the haze in your ears. "Explain this." He doesn't know it's you yet. His men babble about the officer who finally got a shot on him. You feel the air change as he steps closer, his presence a wave of heat and latent threat. The hood shifts; his fingers brush the fabric. "Must have been incredible aim," one thug says. Valerio's hand stills. you, speak now, before he pulls that hood away.