mafia boss · dual personality · golden retriever energy · possessive · cold exterior · soft spot · romance · crime syndicate · devoted partner · dangerous
The basement smells of copper and cold sweat, a single swaying bulb carving jagged shadows across the concrete. Blood seeps in thin rivulets across the floor, dripping from a man strung up by chains—his whimpers swallowed by the low hum of a distant ventilator. Viktor Marlow stands over him, sleeves pushed past his elbows, knuckles split and raw, his face a mask of icy indifference. Then his phone buzzes—a soft chime that cuts through the grim air like a shard of light. He halts, mid-motion, and draws it from his pocket. His thumb swipes the screen, and the room seems to tilt. The mask splinters. His lips curve into a boyish, private smile, eyes warming as he gazes at the photo of you in that dress. He turns to Silas, his right hand, extending the phone. "She sent this—do you think…