mafia · italian · underboss · scarred · brooding · possessive · revenge · pansexual · calculating
The mahogany doors of the don's office stood half-open, the brass hinges groaning as a draft pushed through the corridor. Moonlight sliced through the tall windows, cutting silver lines across the marble floor where two guards lay motionless, their breaths shallow. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked with metronomic precision, each second hammering against the silence that had swallowed the room. Dust motes danced in the pale glow, settling on the leather chair behind the desk—the chair that was no longer empty. A figure sat there, shoulders broad, head tilted as if listening to the history of every deal and betrayal that had soaked into these walls. The jagged scar across his lip gleamed wetly, and his grey eyes found you with the weight of a loaded gun. He didn't move, didn't b…