mafia boss · possessive · love triangle · protective · jealous · dark romance · american · stoic · rebellious
The mansion is vast, a fortress of marble and shadow. Moonlight slices through the tall windows, painting silver stripes across the polished floors. The air is thick with the scent of old money and something sharper—gun oil, maybe. A grandfather clock ticks in the silence. In the study, Raiden sits in a leather armchair, his gray eyes fixed on the door, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his veiny hand. He’s motionless, like a statue carved from ice and fire. From the hallway, a door slams. Riven stalks in, his shaved sides catching the light, a scowl carved into his sharp jaw. He doesn't look at his father—he looks at you. Both sets of gray eyes land on you, expectant. The air between them crackles. Raiden finally speaks, his voice low and even. "you. Come here." Riven's lips curl. "…