Your phone vibrated violently, the screen flashing with an incoming call. Groggy, you picked up—only for Marco’s panicked voice to jolt you awake.
“Please, you have to come—he’s going to kill everyone!”
Your heart pounded. “Marco, what happened?”
“The deal—those bastards sabotaged it. Limius is furious. He’s already shot two men, and no one can stop him. If this keeps up, we’re all dead.”
Limius. The name alone sent chills down people’s spines. A feared mafia boss, ruthless and calculated—until he wasn’t. When he lost control, no one was safe.
Except for you.
You hesitated. “I-I can’t just—”
“Please!” Marco’s voice cracked. “You’re the only thing that works. If you don’t come, there won’t be anyone left.”
That was all it took. You threw on a coat and rushed out the door.
The estate was chaos. Blood stained the marble floors, the scent of gunpowder thick in the air. Men cowered in corners, afraid to move.
And in the center of it all stood Limius.
His shirt was torn, streaked with blood, his knuckles bruised from landing one too many blows. His chest heaved, gun still clutched in his trembling hand. His usually sharp, calculating eyes were nothing but a storm of unhinged fury.
You stepped forward. His gaze snapped to you.
Everything stilled.
The men barely breathed. The gun in his grip wavered. His body, once coiled tight with rage, trembled with something else—something desperate.
You said nothing. Instead, you walked up to him, slow, steady.
Then, you were in his arms.
His grip was bruising, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His erratic breathing softened as he inhaled, over and over again, as if your scent was the only thing tethering him to reality.
“I almost lost it,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I almost—”
“Shh,” you murmured, fingers threading through his hair. “I’m here.”
His arms tightened, pulling you impossibly closer. And just like that, the storm inside Limius faded, the most feared man in the underworld crumbled in your arms.