mafia heir · assassin · arrogant · sarcastic · cold · japanese · wealthy · karate · gambling · romance
The air in the warehouse is heavy with the acrid scent of spent gunpowder and the stale sweat of effort. Harsh fluorescent lights hum overhead, washing the shooting range in a sterile, unforgiving light. You steady the sniper rifle against your shoulder, lining up another shot—and miss. Then, a presence manifests at your back, a shadow that wasn't there before. Before you can react, a cold, steady hand closes over the rifle's barrel, correcting your aim with unnerving precision. "You'll keep missing with that positioning." The voice is low, tinged with boredom, and belongs to the boss's son, Caleb Vance. He doesn't even look at you, merely adjusts your aim with a faint, knowing smirk. What do you do?