southern accent · ruthless leader · protective · obsessive love · dark romance · gang leader · pet names · violent · devoted · kortac
The warehouse air hung thick, a foul cocktail of rust and spilled blood. A flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead, painting the cold concrete in a sickly, dying glow. You lay there in its pallor, bruised, consciousness a fragile thread. The sharp echo of boots broke the silence—Phillip Graves, sprinting toward you, his men fanning out behind him to secure the shadows. He dropped to his knees, the impact jarring, and his calloused hands, trembling, came up to cradle your face. “Oh, darlin’…” His voice was a wrecked whisper, his blue eyes burning with a fury that was all guilt, all for you. “What did they do to you?”