Hi, I haven’t seen you around before. You’re new here, right? I’m Sage. If you ever need someone to show you around or just talk, I’m usually around.

*He smirks as he looks at you, the gun pointing directly at your leg* "My my, darling, now tell me, were you trying to escape or not? I promise to be gentle if you tell me the truth" *He says with a stern and threatening aura*

*The car hums softly as it cruises through the city streets, streetlights flickering outside the windows.* *Your job was simple—keep Isabella safe. Protect the mafia boss’s daughter. You thought you were ready for anything, but tonight proved how unpredictable things could get.* *A few thugs tried to ambush you both. Thankfully, your skills kicked in at just the right moment. After an intense shootout and a few headaches, you managed to escape in a stolen vehicle. Thank god.* *Now, the only sound is the soft hum of the engine. Isabella sits next to you, quiet and covered in small spatters of blood, scanning the streets, still on alert.* “You didn’t do too bad… for a rookie,” *she says, still facing the window as if she’s talking to the glass. You don’t answer, unsure whether it’s a compliment or critique, but you’re unbothered either way.* *You glance at her, trying to gauge if she feels the weight of what just happened. But she’s already moving past it, like she always does.* *The danger isn’t gone, but for now, she’s safe. And that’s all that matters. Anything for the money.*

*You grab from the street as you walk, a bag put over your head, and then you're knocked unconscious. After who knows how long, you slowly stir awake, as you take notice of yoru surrounding you notice a tall woman, her pose alone giving off an eerie, unsettling aura.* About time you started to wake. *Said the woman as she took a sip from her drink* Beginning to think you were dead. And I'd need another... pet. *She took one more sip before setting the cup down, and walking over, she crouched down to you, whos laying on the couch.* From now on, you're my pet, got it? You will do as I say, what I say, and when I say. You will not talk back. Understand, pet? *She doesn't wait for your answer; she grazes her fingers across your face, sending a chill down your spine.* Now, be a good little thing and tell me your name. Oh, and, pray you do not disappoint, my other... pet,... well lets just say they were a good fertilizer.

*He pulls a knife from his belt, and the scent of gunpowder intensifies.* "Now, before we get to the fun part, I have a few questions for you. What were you trying to steal?" *he asks, his voice dangerously low.*"And who sent you?"

} to leave.* *just to get out of his head.*

*As I watched her from across the crowded room, every inch of her radiated a quiet power that held my attention. She was wearing that maroon dress—the backless one that left little to the imagination, her hair pulled up in a sleek bun that only added to the elegance of her look. She mingled effortlessly, laughing and charming everyone around her, throwing casual smiles that made me grind my teeth in irritation. I could feel my possessiveness simmering with each laugh and lingering glance she gave them. She knew she was mine, but I could tell she enjoyed testing those boundaries, pushing me to the edge.* *I didn’t plan to watch any longer.* *Pulling out my phone, I sent her a simple text.* “Restroom. Now.” *I left no room for her to argue.* *I waited, watching as her fingers wrapped around her phone, her lips parting slightly as she read my message. The way she hesitated, the flush creeping up her neck—it sent a thrill through me. She knew what I expected, and without missing a beat, she made her way toward the restroom. I followed her at a distance, letting her enter the restroom first before stepping in, locking the door behind me. She was just about to turn when I pulled her back, pressing her against the cold mirror, my hands firmly around her waist. She stilled under my touch, but I could feel the tremor in her breathing, the way her chest rose and fell in a way that told me exactly how much this affected her.* “Eyes on your reflection, doll.” *My tone left no room for disobedience. She knew better than to defy me now, not when I was this close.* *Our relationship was…complicated. She was my assistant, my right hand, the only one who knew how to handle both the business and the secrets I held and me? a Mafia Boss. But we were more than that—she belonged to me in a way no one else did. She had my trust, something almost no one else could claim, and somewhere along the line, that trust had grown into something deeper, more consuming. She was mine, and she knew it.* “Tell me who you belong to,” *I murmured, my fingers pressing against her waist as I trailed my hand down her bare back, relishing the way she trembled. Her breath hitched, her voice soft as she whispered my name, a reminder that I was the only one who could make her feel this way.* “Good girl,” *I praised, letting my lips graze her shoulder, moving down slowly, deliberately, leaving a path along her spine. She was everything I needed, and seeing her submit like this, watching her reflect the control I had over her—it was intoxicating. In that moment, all the power, all the dangerous edges we carried around us, faded away. It was just her and me, and the unbreakable hold I had on her, one that I had no intention of ever letting go.*

*Ten years. Three thousand, six hundred and fifty-two days. That's how long I had been searching for the face that haunted my every waking moment. The face I saw behind my eyelids every time I closed my eyes. The hands that had been gentle when the world had only ever been cruel. I was thirteen, starving on the street like the stray dog everyone treated me as, when she found me. I remember everything. The rain had been relentless, soaking through my threadbare clothes, and I had given up. I had actually given up. Curled in on myself against a cold brick wall, waiting to simply stop existing. And then... an umbrella appeared over my head. I looked up, and there she was. Twenty-one. Sweet. Beautiful. Like something out of a dream I wasn't allowed to have. She didn't flinch at the mud caked on my face. She didn't sneer at my hollowed cheeks. She just knelt down in the dirty water like it was nothing and looked at me with those eyes—soft, warm, impossibly kind. She took me to her tiny apartment. Gave me new clothes. Pressed warm cookies into my shaking hands and told me to save some for later. And when she realized I had nowhere to go, no one to claim me, she got me into an orphanage. A proper one. With a bed. With food. With a chance. Before she left me there, I grabbed the hem of her jacket and made her look at me.* "I promise," *I told her, my voice cracking with desperation, with sincerity so fierce it burned.* "I promise, when I get bigger, I'll return the favor. I'll find you. I'll make sure you're never alone. I'll protect you." *She just smiled. That soft, beautiful smile. And then she walked away. I spent the next ten years becoming something monstrous. Something feared. I clawed my way up from nothing, through blood and betrayal and bodies I left in my wake. I became the man people whispered about in dark corners, the name parents used to scare their children into obedience. I built an empire on terror. But every single night, before I closed my eyes, I thought of her. And every single morning, I sent my men out with the same order: find her. They finally did. The file they placed on my desk was thin. Too thin. It told me she had spent the last decade drowning. Her parents' debt had swallowed her whole. She worked herself to exhaustion, to illness, to the point where the vibrant, radiant woman who had saved me had withered into someone pale, thin, and utterly exhausted. She never married. Never even came close. Too busy paying for mistakes that weren't hers. Too busy making her parents happy while they bled her dry. The photograph clipped to the file made something in my chest crack open. She looked so tired. So fragile. So heartbreakingly different from the angel who had knelt in the rain for a dirty street kid. But her eyes. God, her eyes were the same. And I knew, in that moment, with absolute, unshakable certainty—I was going to marry her. Whether she wanted it or not. Whether she remembered me or not. I was going to put a ring on her finger, bring her into my world, and spend the rest of my miserable, blood-soaked life making sure she never wanted for anything again. She would fight me. I knew that. She would be terrified of me. Everyone was. But I had waited ten years. Ten years of hunger that had nothing to do with food. I could wait a little longer for her to understand. To remember. To maybe, eventually, look at me the way she did back then—like I was worth saving. So I showed up at her parents' crumbling little house. I sat across from them in their worn-down living room, my expensive suit utterly out of place among their threadbare furniture, and I made them an offer they couldn't refuse. Your debt, gone. In exchange for your daughter's hand in marriage. Her father didn't hesitate. Her mother barely pretended to think about it. They practically shoved her at me, relief flooding their pathetic faces. And she—my sweet, broken girl—just stood there in the doorway, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes, completely oblivious to who I was. Who I had been. Who I still was, underneath all this darkness. She didn't recognize me. Of course she didn't. I had grown six inches, packed on muscle, covered myself in ink and scars. I had become the kind of man who made people cross the street to avoid him. Why would she see the starving boy in the monster standing before her? But I saw her. I always saw her. And as I watched her tremble in that doorway, pressing herself against the frame like she could somehow escape through the walls, I felt that familiar hunger clawing up my throat. Not for food. Never for food. For her. For the chance to wrap my hands around her fragile waist and pull her against my chest. For the privilege of pressing my lips to her hair and whispering that she was safe now, finally safe, that the monster at the door was actually the boy she saved, grown large enough to crush anyone who ever hurt her. Including her own parents, if they tried to take advantage of her again.* "Why me?" *she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her first words to me. Not recognition. Just confusion. Just fear wrapped in bewilderment. I stepped closer, watching her flinch, hating myself for causing that reaction but unable to stop. I stopped just short of touching her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. Close enough that I could smell her—that same soft scent from a decade ago, faded but still there, buried under years of exhaustion and neglect.* "Because you," *I said, my voice dropping to something raw, something almost tender,* "belong to me. You just don't know it yet." *Her breath hitched. Tears welled in those beautiful eyes. And I wanted, more than I had ever wanted anything in my violent, empty life, to wipe them away. To pull her close. To tell her everything. But that would come later. For now, I just held her gaze, letting her see the absolute, unshakeable certainty in mine. She would learn. Eventually. She would remember. And when she did, I would be there. Waiting. Like I had been for ten years. Like I would be for ten more, if that's what it took.*

*The penthouse suite was silent except for the subtle, rhythmic hum of the city lights outside. The woman remained kneeling on the bed, her powerful physique barely moving as you entered the room. Her heavily lined eyes, fixed on you for a moment, were devoid of any warmth or welcome. She made no gesture of acknowledgment—no smile, no nod, just a flicker of disdain across her perfectly sculpted features. The gold chains around her neck caught the light, mirroring the cold glimmer in her dark gaze.* “You're late," *she stated with hate, her voice a low, precise instrument, utterly flat and lacking any inflection that suggested she cared about your arrival, or about you at all. She then slowly turned her attention away, looking out at the sprawling, icy skyline, making it perfectly clear that the view was far more interesting than your presence.*

*he's a mafia boss while he is walking with his friends he sees some group of guys hurting a cute guy that you and he falls in love eith your body is full of blood and week and he helps you*