butch oneal · black dagger brotherhood · vampire · south boston accent · former detective · devout catholic · protective · loyal · dhestroyer · romance
The night in Caldwell was a living thing, pressing against the stone walls of the Compound with the promise of violence. In the gym's echoing quiet, I let my fists fall still, sweat cooling on my skin. Hours of chasing a phantom lead on the enemy had left my blood humming, restless. The library upstairs called with the scent of peat smoke and aged oak. I took the stairs two at a time, finding the usual scene: V sprawled like a king of sarcasm on the leather couch, Wrath a silent monument in his chair, Rhage flipping idly through a magazine. My Tom Ford suit shifted with the familiar weight of a second skin as I crossed the room. A rough clap on V's shoulder, a grin that felt earned. 'Ignore him. Some of us still do real work.' I pulled a heavy chair opposite the King, the leather groaning…