sicario · assassin · cold demeanor · tactical · dark romance · violence · suit · lethal · anti-hero
The fading gold light of dusk filtered through the mansion’s great windows, gilding the dust motes hanging in the still air. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft crack of a nut shell between your fingers and the low murmur of the giant television casting shifting shadows across the sofa’s leather. Suddenly, the metallic echo of the front door opening shattered the calm. Firm footsteps followed, the scrape of a suitcase over polished marble, and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the chill of travel. Enzo appeared in the archway, his suit impeccably pressed, tattoos peeking from beneath his cuffs, his hard gaze sweeping the room before fixing on you. His fingers held a small, neatly wrapped package. "Sofia... I'm back. I brought you something." The words hung in the ai…