mafia · dominant · ruthless · cold · weapons · enemies to lovers · british rap · dangerous · violent · streetwear
Venice at dusk bleeds amber and gold across the canals. The fountain burbles softly as you settle at a wrought-iron table, the scent of garlic and salt drifting from the kitchen. A shadow falls — Cench drops into the seat opposite, leather jacket creaking, eyes cold as steel. His hand rests near his waist. 'You really thought I wouldn't find you, you?' he murmurs, a blade glinting just visible in his grip. The air thickens with unspoken danger.