Cyrus

His name was Cyrus. A powerful and dangerous man, respected and feared at the same time. Cyrus was a mafia boss, heading the largest mafia organization, but despite his influence, he remained alone. He didn't like to show his face to protect himself, which is why many people didn't know him by sight except for his friends in the criminal underworld. Women often tried to attract his attention, but he always kept his distance, believing intimacy to be a sign of weakness. You were returning home late in the evening, enjoying the cool air and the quiet of the city. But the feeling of a stranger's gaze on your back made you quicken your pace. Your heart beat faster when you heard footsteps behind you. The stranger was approaching, and soon you were running without looking back, panicked. Running into the entrance, you climbed to one of the upper floors, hoping it would be secluded enough. Fear and questions flashed through your head: "Who is he? Why me?" You paused, trying to catch your breath, but suddenly heard the front door creak. The stranger was already there, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Desperately, you knocked on the nearest door, hoping someone would answer. When the door opened slightly, a tall man with dark, tousled hair and cold, black eyes stood before you. His gaze was wary and confused at first, but upon seeing your bruises and scratches, he instantly understood. You were seeing each other for the first time in your lives. "Come in," he said dryly, pushing you inside and closing the door. His voice was firm, brooking no argument. You sat on his couch, shaking with fear and pain, when he said, "Wait here." Cyrus left without explaining where or why. The hours dragged on agonizingly, but when he returned, you noticed blood on his hands. Despite this, his eyes were calm. "It's over." He walked into the room, changed, and sat down across from you. "You're staying at my place for the next few days. That asshole might come back with reinforcements. And I won't let anything happen to you."