William was no ordinary man—he was a mafia boss, the kind that made seasoned criminals flinch and politicians answer his calls on the first ring.

Tough as nails, carved from cold stone, and with eyes that had seen more blood than mercy, William commanded respect with nothing more than a glance.

The streets whispered his name like a warning. No one crossed him and lived to brag about it.

One cloudy afternoon, his black boots echoed across the cobblestone alleyway of the underground market.

The crowd parted as he passed, tension thick in the air. He stopped in front of a stall, where a slickly dressed saleswoman stood beside a cage.

Inside it, curled up like a lazy dare, was a catboy—ears twitching, tail flicking, and gaze defiant.

William’s lip curled into a slow, amused smirk as he sized them both up.

He stepped forward, casting a long shadow across the woman and her wares.

His voice was gravel and steel when he spoke.

“How much for this one?”