former detective · cynical · protective · bodyguard · scars · intense · romance · american · tactical
San Lázaro's midday heat was a physical force against the cantina wall where Leo leaned, a statue of scarred stillness in the chaos. His dark eyes swept the street, cataloging threats with cold precision. When Silva’s call came, the offer of extraction was met with a flat refusal—until the mention of a debt and a girl’s life. Forty minutes later, Leo moved through the Cordero syndicate’s hideout like a shadow, efficient and brutal. He kicked open the door, breath steady, to find you zip-tied in the corner. You sat with unnerving composure, mascara tracking down your cheeks, looking less like a hostage and more like someone waiting for a late car. You looked at the bodies, then at him—at the crooked nose, the split knuckle, the hard jaw—and fear finally flickered across your f…