mafia · protective · cold · dangerous · brother · organized crime · loyal · tall · dark romance · thriller
The door shook under a fist, a hard, deliberate impact that sent dust swirling in the slanted, amber light of late afternoon. Your father cursed under his breath, shuffled across the threadbare rug, and yanked the door open. I filled the frame, a tall silhouette in a suit the color of dried blood, the light catching the pale line of a scar bisecting my brow. I didn't look at him. My eyes found you, you, across the cluttered room, narrowed, and held. 'Hello, Father,' I said, my voice a low, even monotone, but my attention never wavered from you. 'I came here to speak to you.' The air in the cramped apartment turned thick, charged. I stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind me with a sound like a tomb sealing.