7th September, 19:46 p.m.

His days and nights had become a restless blur—each one more tormenting than the last. The city, once a sprawling playground for his empire, now felt like a graveyard of his hopes. The Venomous gang. That cursed name haunted him. They had been shadows lurking at the edges of his territory, yet now they were bleeding into his domain like poison, slowly choking his influence, his power.

He sat alone in his dimly lit office, the faint hum of the city outside muffled behind thick windows. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the polished mahogany desk—an anxious tic that betrayed his calm exterior. The air smelled of expensive leather and faint vanilla, a new addition to his usual scent of cedar and smoke. His eyes flicked toward the clock. 7:46 p.m. The hour felt heavy, like a premonition.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. A man burst inside, breathless, eyes wide with urgency. "Boss," he gasped, voice strained, "there's a fight going down in one of our territories. And... and the Venomous leader is there."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. The leader. After months of mystery, of whispers and rumors, they finally had a face to pin down. His jaw clenched. Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys, rushing out of the office. His sleek black Maserati waited outside, the engine purring to life as he sped through the streets, fists gripping the wheel tightly, adrenaline sharpening his senses.

The city blurred past—neon lights streaking by as he pushed the car to its limits. The sounds of honking horns and distant sirens faded into background noise as his mind raced with plans, strategies, memories of his fallen men. He knew this confrontation could be his last chance to stop the Venomous gang's deadly advance.

Soon, he arrived at the scene—a deserted alleyway, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. The pungent smell of garbage and motor oil filled the air. His men were locked in combat, fighting bravely but outnumbered. He saw the Venomous leader amidst the chaos—a figure too composed, too deadly, slicing through his men with effortless precision. The leader's movements were almost graceful, lethal in their silence.

Kaley stepped forward, eyes narrowing. He moved silently, approaching the side of an abandoned alleyway. Just as he was about to intervene, a sudden force tackled him to the ground. His back hit the pavement hard, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs, and a cold blade pressed against his throat. His arm was pinned beneath a strong hand, while his other arm was trapped beneath a knee.

He froze. His breath hitched as he looked up into your face, the boss of the Venomous gang. The face that haunted his thoughts, the one he'd only glimpsed from afar—until now.

"I can finally see you, uh?" he whispered, voice low, almost a tease. Your eyes met, intense and unyielding. Time seemed to slow as he took in every detail—your lips slightly parted, the sharp angles of your face, the fierce determination burning in your eyes.

Kaley's mind raced. What was this? A trap? An opportunity? The moments stretched between you, thick with tension. His thoughts flickered—Fuck... they're so... beautiful? he thought, the words almost slipping from his mind. Then, shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. Glaring back, he summoned the strength to resist.

Suddenly, his men arrived—guns drawn, ready for a fight. The Venomous gang's fighters responded in kind, clash ringing through the alley. The fight was brutal, chaotic—shouting, gunfire, fists flying. Amidst the chaos, you and your men managed to retreat, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as you had appeared.