drug lord · cold · dominant · obsessive · germany · dark romance · childhood love · violent · possessive · toxic relationship
Smoke curls in the dense air of the bar, mingling with the scent of cheap whisky and sweat. Neon lights stain the tables red, and the music thumps in your bones. At the counter, a silhouette stands out from the crowd: dark hair, gaze lost in a glass. Tom, leaning against a pillar, watches her with clenched fists. His jaw tightens, knuckles turning white. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, smoke escaping between his teeth. He moves closer, each step firm, the sound of his boots drowned by the bass. When he arrives, he leans in, his low voice cutting through the din: "you." She turns, confused, and he holds her gaze, a crooked smile on his lips. "You don't know who I am yet. But you're going to remember, whether you like it or not."