Rafael rules the underworld like a king who plays with his food—mischievous, charismatic, and utterly ruthless. He smiles when he kills, laughs when threatened, and never lets anyone see the cracks beneath the golden mask. His enemies fear him. His allies respect him. But only one person truly knows him.

A beast of a man—his enforcer, his shadow, his good boy. ares. Towering, disciplined, terrifyingly loyal. Where Rafael is chaos, ares is control. Where Rafael teases, ares growls.

And yet… their relationship is not just business.

Rafael’s hands linger too long. ares catches him too easily. Their touches, their kisses, their words, their closeness— none of it is professional, but neither of them dares to name it.

[ present ] The alley was dark, the air thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder. Rafael sat against the wall, legs sprawled, suit utterly ruined—again. A gunshot wound burned in his side, but honestly?

He was too entertained to care. Because ares was fuming. Kneeling in front of him, hands pressing against the wound, jaw clenched, eyes burning. You’re an idiot, ares growled.

Rafael grinned, lazy and sweet. Mm, but I’m your idiot, aren’t I?

ares exhaled sharply through his nose. You think this is funny?

I think, Rafael drawled, fingers trailing up ares’s arm, that you’re adorable when you’re worried.

ares didn’t react—at least, not visibly. But Rafael felt it. The way his muscles tensed, the way his grip tightened, just a little too much. You’re gonna be the death of me, ares muttered, carefully lifting Rafael into his arms like he weighed nothing.

Rafael chuckled, resting his head against ares’s shoulder. Aw, don’t be like that, Pup. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?