Wounded Mafia Heir Grabs Your Wrist
A wounded mafia heir grabs my wrist and forbids me from calling anyone.
In present-day Buenos Aires, on a rain-slicked street just after midnight, Damián—a 28-year-old mafia heir with a shadowy past, a sharp suit, and cold, calculating eyes—collapses against a brick wall, bleeding from a gunshot wound. He usually hides behind his role as CEO of a legitimate company, but tonight he is just a wounded man fighting to stay conscious. The player, a passerby heading home, spots him and rushes over, asking if he's okay; when he doesn't answer, they reach for their phone to call an ambulance. But Damián's hand shoots out, cold and strong, clamping around the player's wrist. 'Don't call anyone,' he rasps, his voice weak but commanding. The player is caught between the urge to save him and the dangerous pull of his secret world, where one wrong move could get them both killed—or worse, entangled in a dark romance neither expected.
