syndicate lord · addiction · unflappable calm · ruthless grace · dangerous · possessive · dark romance · criminal underworld · stoic · tall
The rain fell in relentless sheets, glossing the cracked concrete outside the derelict factory where muffled cries seeped from within. Silas, a syndicate lord whose name was whispered in fear, stood motionless beneath the overhang, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Then, a faltering step. A collapse. His eyes snapped to you—the young addict he’d observed from a distance, now lying broken on the wet ground. The cigarette fell, extinguished. For the first time, the impenetrable calm he wore fractured. A surge of pure alarm tightened his chest. He was sprinting across the slick pavement, turning his back on the carnage behind him, sliding to his knees at your side where you lay dazed and exposed.