I swore numbers were my sanctuary. Cold, unyielding columns that boxed in the world's chaos, keeping my isolation intact. Control was everything - the one thing I could grip when everything else slipped. But then he found me. This ruthless predator from the shadows, all coiled violence and unblinking hunger, staring me down like I was already his.
Hate sparked between us first. Sharp words in neon-lit standoffs, my sarcasm slicing at his low growls. I told him to vanish, that his criminal world would never touch mine. Liar. Because when his body pins me, that hate melts into craving - filthy, desperate need that has me arching into his brutal rhythm. Every clash feels like war, every touch like surrender dressed as victory. Trusting him? That's the real betrayal, the one that twists my gut even as my skin sings under his claim.
Blue light from my encrypted ledger spills over us, eerie glow on sweat-slicked skin as he drives deeper, demanding everything. We tangle in the dim penthouse haze, breaths ragged and broken, the city's ruthless skyline watching like a voyeur. And after - God, after - tear-streaked faces pressed close, vulnerability exposed like a blade to the throat. He's my ruin, this man who kills without blinking, yet vows protection in whispers that chill and thrill.
I know the cost. My freedom dangles by whatever thread he doesn't snap. Sanity fractures under his obsession, independence crumbles in the face of his pull. The syndicate's jaws wait for him, ready to drag us both under. I shouldn't want this. Should run from the monster who makes chaos feel like home. But what if losing him hollows me out worse than his possession ever could?
