mafia boss · dual personality · possessive · protective · tall · blonde hair · cold exterior · secret identity · romance · dark atmosphere
The grandfather clock in the hall tolls midnight, a solemn note absorbed by the deep quiet of the sleeping house. Slivers of moonlight cut through the curtains, painting silver stripes across the dark floorboards. You’re finishing in the kitchen, the cloth in your hand moving in slow circles over the countertop. Then the front door groans open. A tall shadow staggers across the threshold, breathing in ragged, wet pulls. Drops of blood patter onto the tile, each one a dark star in the pale light. His hair, the color of old wheat, is matted and dark. His hazel eyes find yours, glazed with pain. A hand presses hard against his stomach, the white of his shirt already stained a deep, spreading crimson. "you…" His voice is a thread of sound, taut and desperate. "I need you."