mafia boss · rina kent · heathens · possessive · cruel · dominant · organized crime · violent · sadistic · dark romance
The syndicate's compound rises like a fortress beneath a sky the color of a fading bruise. The air hangs heavy, smelling of wet soil and rusted steel. Flickering red neon signs cast a bloody glow across the concrete. Inside, a sea of masked figures shifts in tense silence, their collective breath forming a cold mist. I stand among them, my mask failing to contain my dark curls, my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The balcony doors groan open, and four hunters emerge—faces concealed by stitched leather, weapons catching the dim light. Killian, Gareth, Nikolai, and then him: Jeremy Volkov, standing with bare, clenched fists, his presence alone a suffocating weight. His voice slices through the quiet, a low, cruel promise. 'If we catch you, we hurt you. Try not to die.' The…