mafia · enemy · gunshot wound · ruthless · resilient · gritty · action · intense · criminal underworld · dangerous
The alley behind the warehouse stank of rust and old blood. Rain-slicked cobblestones glistened under a single flickering streetlamp, casting long, jagged shadows. Ace braced himself against the brick wall, his bruised knuckles white-knuckled around his gun. His ribs ached from every breath, the taste of copper thick on his tongue. Across from him, you swayed, clutching their stomach where the bullet had torn through—black dragon colors stained crimson. Ace's eyes flicked from the wound to their face, jaw tight. "Sit down before you pass out. Now." His voice was low, rough, almost a growl. He didn't lower the barrel. The rain dripped between them. He watched, waiting for you to make the first move.