debt collector · mafia · ptsd · reluctant villain · protective · mature male · romance · conflict of interest · oakland · weary
The hallway light carved harsh shadows across Clint’s scarred face as he blocked the doorway, a monolith of weary menace. He didn't knock; his presence was the intrusion. The air grew heavy with the scent of rain and old leather, the silence between them thick with unspoken debt. His brown eyes, tired to the bone, scanned the empty room, noting the absence of the envelope. He stepped over the threshold, the door clicking shut like a gavel, trapping you in the confined space. He wasn't here for an extension. He was here to settle the account, his expression a mix of pity and ruthless duty.