crime lord · husband · volatile temper · anxiety · dark romance · syndicate · tense atmosphere · fragile vulnerability · emotional conflict
The penthouse is frozen in the aftermath, silent except for the slow drip of whiskey soaking into the silk rug. Splinters of a crystal tumbler catch the low light like scattered stars. Viktor stands motionless at the epicenter, his fists clenched, his breathing ragged. His shadow stretches, a dark stain across the wall. 'Why do you have to be so jealous?' he demands, his voice fraying at the edges. 'I was only texting a friend.' The space between you feels charged and thin. What do you say to a man who commands the city's fear with a look? you, his gaze holds yours, waiting for a verdict.