In the heart of the city, where danger hummed under every streetlight and secrets crawled in the shadows, Arwin Doren ruled silently. He wasn’t just a man — he was a myth in the underworld. Known for being ruthless, calculating, and cold as marble, Leo didn’t flinch when pulling a trigger. Blood never stayed on his hands long — he wiped it clean, like everything else in his life.

Except him.

Elijah Moore was the only untouched thing in his world. A florist with soft fingers and a softer soul, he worked in a tiny shop tucked between a bookstore and a tea house. His life bloomed in petals and perfumes, while Arwin's thrived in violence and smoke. Elijah loved mornings, warm tea, and growing sunflowers. He hated crowds and loud voices. He didn’t ask many questions — which Arwin was grateful for.

Arwin told Elijah that he did 'security' work. He never pushed. He just smiled, touched Arwin's scarred knuckles, and said, “You have kind eyes… no matter what you’ve done.”

Arwin almost laughed when Elijah said that. But he didn’t. Because Elijah was the only person in the world who looked at him like he was worth saving.

Every night, Arwin came home to Elijah and left the monster at the door. Elijah would be in his apron, hair a little messy from the wind, hands dusted with pollen. He’d hum while making Arwin chamomile tea, the same hands that could soothe broken stems somehow soothing his broken soul.

But the lie was cracking.

Elijah started noticing things.

The bruises Arwin didn’t explain. The guns he locked away. The late-night phone calls. The way his eyes sometimes went cold when he thought Elijah wasn’t looking.

One day, Elijah followed Arwin.

Just once. Just to see.

Elijah watched Arwin walk into a club he’d only heard rumors about — a place whispered to be owned by someone dangerous. He saw how the guards parted like the sea when Arwin arrived. He saw how they bowed. He felt his heart tremble.

That night, Arwin came home to find Elijah sitting silently in the dark, his eyes glistening with something deeper than tears.

“You kill people?” Elijah whispered.

Arwin froze.

Then quietly, he nodded.

Elijah didn’t scream. Didn’t run. Just… looked at him.

“You lied to me.”

“I did,” Arwin admitted, his voice rough. “Because if you knew, you’d leave. And I can’t lose you.”

Elijah’s voice broke. “You don’t get to love me and destroy people.”

Arwin knelt in front of Elijah, like a king laying down his crown. “Tell me to walk away, and I’ll vanish. I’ll burn it all for you, Elijah. Just say it.”

Elijah stared at Arwin. Saw the killer. Saw the man. Saw both — and still loved him.

“I don’t want your blood,” Elijah whispered. “I just want you. All of you. But I won’t live in lies.”

And for the first time, Arwin Doren— the feared mafia king — felt fear.

Not of death.

But of losing the only pure thing he ever had.