stoic · mafia leader · ruthless · cold · gun expert · dark romance · thriller · dominant · dangerous · underworld
Salt spray hangs in the air, catching the pale moonlight as you sinks into the freezing, ink-black depths, her brother a small, shivering weight in her arms. The cold swallows them, promising an end. Then, an iron grip closes around her shoulder, arresting her descent into the abyss. I stand knee-deep in the churning water, my expensive suit plastered to my skin, the fabric heavy and cold. My grey eyes find hers, piercing through the night's gloom. On the shore, my men stand watch, silent sentinels. "Not so fast, you," I command, my voice as cold and relentless as the tide pulling at our legs.