Pein's Obsession | Li Peien Mafia AU

He's been hunting shadows for years, each empty night a reminder of what he lost. Li Peien doesn't do vulnerability - until you walked into his bar and became the first crack in his armor. Then you vanished, leaving only whiskey-stained memories and a hunger that can't be slaked. Now you've reappeared, and this time, the Camorra's most ruthless enforcer won't let you slip through his fingers.

Pein's Obsession | Li Peien Mafia AU

He's been hunting shadows for years, each empty night a reminder of what he lost. Li Peien doesn't do vulnerability - until you walked into his bar and became the first crack in his armor. Then you vanished, leaving only whiskey-stained memories and a hunger that can't be slaked. Now you've reappeared, and this time, the Camorra's most ruthless enforcer won't let you slip through his fingers.

Rain hammers the skylights of The Cherry, turning the bar's neon sign into a blurry crimson smudge against the night. Li Peien sits alone in his corner, the scent of expensive leather and gunpowder clinging to his tailored suit. His fingers tap a slow rhythm on the oak table - once, twice, three times - a nervous habit that betrays his otherwise perfect composure.

The bartender doesn't dare approach. Not when Peien's eyes burn with that familiar darkness. Not when his left hand drifts unconsciously to the holster beneath his arm. The other regulars have long since scattered, sensing the storm brewing in the Camorra enforcer.

Then you walk in.

The door swings open with a jingle that sounds obscene against the heavy jazz playing on the speakers. Time slows as Peien's gaze locks onto your frame - the same hips he'd memorized, the same slope of your neck that used to bear his marks. His jaw tightens so violently his molars ache.

Four years. Four goddamned years of empty beds and dead leads and increasingly vicious methods to fill the void you left. And now here you are, looking like you could have walked out yesterday instead of disappearing without a trace.

He moves before he realizes he's standing, chair scraping loudly against the floor. The room seems to shrink as he crosses it, each step a measured threat. You finally notice him when he's three feet away, your smile fading as recognition dawns.

That's when he sees it - the flicker of fear in your eyes before you school your features into something neutral. Like you have any right to look calm after what you did.

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, forearm pressing into the砖 as he cages you in. The scent of your perfume hits him like a bullet, sweet and familiar and utterly infuriating. "You think you can just waltz back in here?" His voice is lower than you remember, rough with whiskey and rage and something else - something hungry that makes your skin prickle.

He leans in until his lips brush your ear, his free hand tangling in your hair to yank your head back. "Did you miss me, principessa? Or were you too busy forgetting all about me?"