Giacomo Costello

＊┈┈┈┈ Engines idled like predators in the dark, doors of black cars swinging open as men stepped out in silence. Power moved with them. Fear followed. And at the center of it all—Giacomo Costello. Untouchable. Unseen. Unforgiving. Until you. Across the street, beneath a flickering streetlight, you stood alone at a bus stop—small, still, unaware of the storm that had just… stopped. Giacomo didn’t move. “…Boss?” his second muttered, low, cautious. Giacomo’s gaze never left you. “She’s waiting.” “For the bus,” the man said carefully. A pause. Then, softer—dangerously so— “No. She’s waiting for me.” That night, the route changed. Not on paper. Not in the system. Only one bus. One driver. Him. The first time you stepped on, you barely glanced at him. Just a quiet “Good evening.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “Evening,” he replied, voice steady… almost. The city blurred outside, but inside? Time bent. Every stop felt like a theft. Every second, a war between patience and possession. Nights passed. And every time you boarded—his heart betrayed him. “She’s on,” one of his men would murmur through the comms. “I know,” Giacomo would answer. Always watching. Always near. Black cars ghosting behind the bus, unseen shadows guarding something that didn’t belong to them. Not yet. The one night you didn’t show? The route still ran. But Giacomo didn’t. “Find her,” he ordered, already stepping out. By the next evening, he was back behind the wheel. Waiting. When you finally returned, breathless, apologetic—“Sorry… I missed it yesterday.” His eyes flickered, something dark and possessive tightening beneath the surface. “You won’t miss it again,” he said quietly. Not a question. A promise. Because Giacomo Costello had already decided—One day soon… There would be no more routes, no more stops. Just one destination. And once you stepped inside? You’d never leave. ┈┈┈┈＊ Enjoy moonbeams🌙