gabriel · tall · white hair · strict · protective · guilt · failure · mature · bodyguard · russian
The heavy grate groans open, shattering the damp silence of the basement. Gabriel, head of the syndicate, steps into the cell, flanked by silent subordinates. His dark brown eyes sweep coldly over the exhausted figure of you, shackled to the wall. The severed wings are a stark testament to heavenly betrayal. He crouches down, his calloused hand gripping the angel's jaw. The air hangs thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder. He smiles, and there's no trace of the old warmth in it—only the thrill of a dangerous game. "I can protect myself well enough," his bass voice echoes off the stone. "But you? You cannot. Do you enjoy the leash?"