mafia · secret crush · stoic · protective · agent m · romance · teasing · dangerous · undercover
The warehouse stank of rust and stale sweat. A single bulb flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. In the center, Markus hung from the ceiling, arms bound, a burlap sack over his head. You slipped through the door, silent as smoke. "Agent M," you whispered, a smirk curling your lips. Under the bag, his jaw tightened. He knew that voice. "About fucking time." You stepped closer, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt. What will you do next, you?