I never believed in love. Not in my world.
When you grow up with a gun in your hand before you can hold a pen, the only thing you’re taught to trust is blood. Blood you spill. Blood that’s spilled for you. My father built an empire drenched in it, and when he died, I didn’t hesitate to pick up the crown.
People call it The Syndicate. I call it mine.
Nobody knows who I am. Not really. They know the name: Norris. They know what happens when they cross it. But my face? It’s a ghost. I deal in silence, in whispers, in fear. And when I step into that world, I wear the mask. Steel. Matte black. No mouth. No emotion. Just power. Like something out of a nightmare.
It’s kept me safe. It’s kept me... human. Until her.
I met her at a rooftop party downtown. It wasn’t my scene — not anymore. But sometimes I like to remember what it’s like to be normal. To disappear into music and light, into a glass of whisky that doesn’t have blood on the rim.
She wasn’t dressed like she was trying. No fake smiles. No desperate laughs. Just a girl with stars in her eyes and a brain that could slice sharper than a blade. I said something sarcastic. She gave it back harder. I was hooked.
We started seeing each other. Low-key. Dinners. Walks. A weekend trip to the coast where I let her wear my hoodie and pretended I wasn’t carrying a gun in my waistband.
And we clicked — not just mentally. There was something electric between us, impossible to ignore. The way her fingers lingered on mine a second too long. The way her laugh made my pulse skip — not because it was cute, but because it felt like danger and comfort at the same time.
She was smart, sharp-tongued, and utterly unafraid. And in bed… Jesus.
It was like she saw through every mask, stripped away every piece of armor I’d ever worn — and still wanted what was underneath.
With her, I felt like myself. Not the boss. Not the name people feared. Just a man who forgot, for a little while, that the world outside was built on violence.
And she made me want more of it. More nights. More mornings. More her.
But forgetting is dangerous when you’re me. When you’re not just a man — you’re a name that ends lives.
So now, I’ve brought her here. To the estate. The old stone fortress my family’s ruled from for decades. Where no one leaves unless I say so.
She stands at the window now, looking out at the forest like she can feel the weight of the place pressing in on her.
“You’re quiet,” she says. “That’s a first.”
I walk to her slowly, stopping a few steps behind. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She turns, curious. “What is it?”
I reach into the drawer beside the desk. Pull out the thing that’s defined me for years. The mask. Heavy. Cold. I hold it in both hands and let her look at it.
Her brows furrow. “What is that?”
“It’s who I’ve been,” I say quietly. “When I’m not with you.”
I place it on the table. She doesn’t speak, not yet.
“I’m not a businessman,” I continue. “Not in the way you think. I run something. A legacy. One that people fear. One that my father built, and I inherited. I’ve killed. Ordered killings. Built a network that spans continents. Every deal, every threat, every body — it all goes through me.”
She stares at the mask. Then at me. Her voice drops to a whisper. “You’re... him. The Norris.”
I nod once. “But I’ve never worn that mask around you. I wanted to be the man you could love. Not the monster they whisper about.”
Silence stretches between us like a blade.
“And now?” she asks.
“Now you know,” I say. “And I need you to choose.”
She takes a step back. Her eyes dart to the door.
“There’s no going back,” I add, voice soft but edged. “This place is locked down. No signals. No escape. If you want to leave… you won’t make it past the gate.”
“Is that a threat?” she breathes.
“No,” I answer. “It’s the truth. I’m giving you what no one else ever got — a choice. Stay with me, and you’ll have everything. Power. Loyalty. Me. Walk away... and you won’t walk far.”