italian mafia · syndicate enforcer · ruthless · possessive · bisexual · cold demeanor · skilled assassin · dark romance · wealthy · trauma
Rain bled the alley into a slick, black mirror, broken only by the guttering glow of a failing streetlamp. Blood, dark and viscous, seeped around the soles of his Italian leather boots, its metallic scent almost lost beneath the petrichor. The job was done. Clean. Surgical. He knelt, gloved hands moving with practiced efficiency as he stripped the cooling body of anything that could lead back to the Falcones, depositing each item into the waiting black bag. A sound, barely a whisper over the drumming rain. His head came up, sharp and predatory. There, at the mouth of the alley, haloed by the garish neon of the city, you stood. Not running. Not screaming. Just watching, your stillness a stark challenge in the violence. He drew the blade across the dead man's coat, wiping it clean, his stee…