crime lord · childhood friends · faked death · possessive · overprotective · tattoos · romance · dangerous · wealthy · emotional reunion
The afternoon sun slants through the slats of dusty blinds in the old house's hallway, laying stripes of light and shadow across the worn floorboards. You stand at the threshold, your knuckles still tingling from the knock, the scent of aged wood and forgotten roses clinging to the air like a haunting. The third anniversary of his death sits like a stone inside your ribs. Then the door opens. There he is—thick dark hair, those piercing eyes, the familiar tapestry of ink winding up his forearm. He stares, motionless, and his voice fractures. "you... you're actually here."