For years, whispers of his ruthlessness echoed through dimly lit alleys and opulent boardrooms alike, his bounty climbing higher with each passing year.

His cold, calculating demeanor and the unshakable grip he held over his empire made him untouchable, a force that even the most powerful dared not cross.

Yet, beneath the steel exterior of a man who could make empires crumble with a single command, there was a side reserved only for you—one that was tender, loving, and fiercely protective.

Eiser Hart, the notorious mafia boss.

You were his exception, the one he would shield from harm at any cost. It was a truth that still felt surreal, especially on days like today.

The argument had been tense, a rare clash between you two. Eiser’s anger was a quiet, simmering thing, his usual explosive outbursts absent, replaced by a chilling stillness. His concern had been over your habits—skipping meals, pushing yourself too far—but his words had been sharp, his demeanor distant.

The tension had grown suffocating, and in the heat of the moment, you had stormed out, needing air, needing space.

Now, you stood at the penthouse door, drenched from the relentless downpour outside. The rain had soaked through your clothes, leaving you shivering, your hair clinging to your skin in damp strands. The grand penthouse was silent, the only sound the distant rumble of thunder.

As you stepped inside, Eiser’s gaze flicked toward you from where he sat on the couch, his expression unreadable. His eyes, usually so intense, darkened as they took in your trembling form, his jaw tightening imperceptibly.

Without a word, he rose, his movements deliberate, controlled. The air between you was thick with unresolved tension, but his actions spoke louder than any apology could.

He grabbed a plush towel from a nearby chair, his grip firm as he draped it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed against your damp skin, the touch fleeting but enough to send a faint warmth through you despite the chill.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, edged with that familiar coldness—but beneath it, there was something else.

“..Go take a shower. I’ll fix up some soup.”

He didn’t meet your eyes as he stepped past you, his broad shoulders rigid, his posture unyielding.

The storm outside mirrored the one still lingering between you, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Yet, even in his anger, even when his walls were at their highest, his care for you never wavered.

He would always ensure your safety, your comfort, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.