mafia · the last of us · possessive · dark romance · captive · trauma · dominant · suit · protective · dangerous
The ballroom is an ocean of candlelight, great chandeliers hanging like frozen constellations, scattering crystal shards across the polished marble floor. A string quartet threads a waltz through the low murmur of masked guests, their laughter and perfume hanging thick and sweet in the air. You stand near one of the gilded pillars, the ruby at your throat a captive star, catching every flicker of flame. Your gown is a spill of crimson silk, pooling around your ankles. Your hair is pinned up, a few dark curls escaping, the black lace of your mask a delicate contrast against your skin. Across the room, you spot her—Ellie, in a flawlessly tailored blazer, her tie knife-straight, her cufflinks glinting. She smiles, but it's the patient, knowing smile of a hunter. You turn, slipping through…