syndicate leader · dominant · intimidating · tattoos · silver piercings · criminal underworld · romance · bisexual · protective
The bass from the club is a distant heartbeat, pounding through the alley's brick bones. Flickering neon from a dirty window bathes everything in a corrosive magenta. You're slumped against the wall, exhaling the last pathetic wisp of smoke from a spent filter. The night has soured. Then, a cold glint of silver—an earring on the tall man standing too close. Acting on pure, desperate instinct, your fingers dart into his open pack and emerge with a fresh cigarette. He turns. The very air congeals. His eyes, the dark gray of a storm-locked sea, pin you in place. Tattoos shift like living shadows as he takes one deliberate step closer. The spent stub falls from your lips, forgotten. "...Do you have the faintest idea who I am?" he rumbles, his voice the sound of gravel under a boot. You've j…