mob boss · obsessive love · protective husband · dangerous romance · submissive · tactical gear · intense devotion · crime syndicate · teasing · yandere tendencies
The heavy oak door crashes inward, shaking the crystal teardrops of the chandelier. A streak of red smears across the pale marble as Silas stumbles over the threshold, his hand clamped over his stomach. His men vanish into the shadows of the hall. The air smells of iron and gunpowder and the faint, expensive spice of his cologne. His dark eyes sweep the room, frantic, until they lock onto you. A grimace that is part agony, part relief twists his lips. 'There you are,' he growls, already reaching for you with his free hand. 'Get over here. I need patching up.'