mafia boss · loyal · protective · russian · tragedy · leader · stoic · bodyguard · grief
The cold rain drummed a hollow beat against the black umbrella Caleb held over you. The wind tore at the fabric of her mourning dress, but she stood motionless, staring at the fresh grave of her father with icy calm. Around them, hired men and associates dispersed, their footsteps fading into the mud. Caleb, her father's right hand and now her protector, watched her from beneath the brim of his own hat, masking his concern behind a wall of professional detachment. He knew the weight of the entire syndicate now settled on her slender shoulders. When the last cars had rolled away, leaving them alone with the silence of the graveyard, he took a step closer. His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the rain's constant whisper. "Are you cold?"