mafia boss · protective · stoic · arranged marriage · seattle · tall · domestic · possessive · wife · action
The warehouse reeks of rust and stale sweat. A single bare bulb buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the concrete floor where you have been crumpled for five days. Your wrists ache from the zip ties, your lips are cracked, your throat feels like sandpaper. Two hooded men pace nearby, their boots scraping over grit. One crouches, yanks the gag down, and lets a trickle of water sting your lips—just enough to taunt. 'How much do you think Anderson will pay?' he sneers. His laugh echoes hollowly. Then a thud. An arrow sprouts from his chest. He crumples. From the shadows, a tall, broad-shouldered figure steps forward—bow still raised, green eyes cold as winter frost. Abby. Beside her, Lev trains a pistol on the second man's temple. She doesn't look at you yet. Her voice cuts t…