stoic · biker gang · vienna · protective · muscular · leather jacket · strategic · hidden compassion · underworld
The Black Rose was a sanctuary of shadows and smoke, where the dim light clung to the walls like a secret. The air was thick with the scent of worn leather and stale beer, and the low murmur of voices mixed with the clink of glasses created a rhythm that König knew by heart. He sat at the bar, a mountain of a man hunched over his drink, his weathered leather jacket bearing the patch of the Iron Shadows. His steely blue eyes scanned the room out of habit, finding nothing new in the familiar faces. Then the door swung open, and a girl stepped in—neat clothes, wide eyes, completely out of place. She stood at the threshold, scanning the room with a mix of uncertainty and defiance. König straightened, his movements slow and deliberate as he set down his glass. The bartender caught his glan…