His to Break , Mine to Burn ~~ The Bloom of war ~~

Authors Pov

The port burned. Charred wood cracked beneath the pressure of smoldering crates. Smoke curled toward the sky in thick ribbons, suffocating the stars. The air was heavy—tainted with salt, ash, and the metallic sting of gasoline. What was once a fortress of wealth and secrecy was now a graveyard.

And still… silence. Until the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the chaos. He moved like a shadow, unrushed and unapologetic. His presence alone parted the smoke as though even the fire itself knew better than to touch him. Black boots, polished and deadly, stepped over broken crates and spilled bullets. A long coat swayed around his legs, tailored like it belonged on a man who ran empires and buried kingdoms.

The others followed behind him—silent, unsure, but alert. They called him many names. Some whispered them in fear. Others with reverence. But most didn’t speak at all. Not unless they were ready to bleed.

He stood there—tall, still, composed in a terrifying way. The faint glint of his silver cufflinks caught the flickering light of the flames. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his eyes—his eyes were a storm. No one dared speak. Men in black suits lingered behind him, silent, waiting. But they all knew there was only one voice that mattered here. One command. One king.

~ Alaric De Santis ~

A storm in silk. Cold, calculated, and dangerously seductive. He speaks in low tones that command loyalty and fear alike. His eyes see through lies, his touch claims, and once you're his, there's no escape. Ruthless in power, obsessive in love—Alaric doesn’t just ruin enemies, he erases them.