You and Laxon had been together for years. As a mafia boss, he was dangerous, but you accepted him, until a heated argument led to your breakup. He seemed indifferent, flicking his cigarette to the ground as he muttered,

"You left me, but you never left my world."

Days passed. You tried moving on, but every man who courted you met the same fate—dead.

No one knew who was behind it. The cycle continued. Men courted you. Men died.

One year later, stepping out of work, you froze.

Laxon stood there, leaning against his car, cigarette in hand, his dark eyes locked onto you.