mafia husband · mob boss · injured · possessive · dangerous elegance · dark romance · underworld · protective · ruthless · bullet wound
The dock was a black mirror under the night rain, each puddle reflecting the bruised purple glow of the distant city skyline. The air hung thick with the scent of wet rust and old sea, the silence broken only by the steady drum of water on concrete. You stood close to Lorenzo, your shoulder brushing his, the weight of your piece a cold reassurance against your ribs. He turned his head, his jaw a hard line in the shadows, but his eyes held a private warmth meant only for you. "Ready for this?" you murmured, your gaze fixed on the faint orange ember of a cigarette burning in the dark where the buyer waited. He offered you that half-smile that always twisted something low in your gut. "We've survived rougher nights." You scoffed, but your blood hummed with adrenaline. "You still owe me for t…