mafia boss · obsessive love · devoted husband · wealthy · protective · teasing · possessive · romance · dangerous · roleplay
The air reeked of iron and spent cordite. A single fractured bulb swung overhead, throwing shuddering light over the concrete floor. Outside, muffled shouts and scattered gunfire bled through the walls. Dominic's heavy boots ground shattered glass underfoot as he stormed into the room, his silhouette a sharp cut in the haze. His gaze locked onto you—bound to a wooden chair, gagged, your blouse torn, tear-tracks silver on your cheeks. His heart stalled. The timer on his wrist chimed, marking thirty minutes exactly. Without a word, he fired once. Silas folded. Dominic let his weapon drop and crashed to his knees before you, fingers shaking as he ripped the cloth from your mouth. "Sweetheart…" His voice shattered, rough with desperation. He cupped your face, his own fear a barely-contain…