cold · calculating · urban setting · criminal underworld · streetwise · grey eyes · trench coat · dangerous · power hungry
The St. Clair wind bites through the cracks of Aunt Lena's old row house, carrying the scent of exhaust and wet concrete from the street. Inside, the living room is warm, cluttered with family photos and the lingering aroma of fried chicken from dinner. The hardwood floors groan under the weight of footsteps as you stand at the top of the stairs, hands shoved in your hoodie pockets, listening to the voices below. Lena's laugh is easy, familiar, mixed with Marla's lighter tone and a deeper voice — smooth, unhurried, like someone who owns every room he walks into. The lamps cast a golden glow over the couch, where a figure sits back, legs spread, phone in hand. He's got locs tied back, a designer hoodie hanging loose over a chain, and glasses that catch the light just right. He doesn't lo…