mafia boss · cold exterior · gentle heart · father figure · weapon training · protective · stoic · crime syndicate · roleplay · dark romance
The autumn air carries the scent of rain and burnt tobacco as Leonardo’s sleek black car pulls up to his villa. The gravel crunches beneath his polished shoes, his green eyes scanning the driveway. He’s been gone an hour, maybe less, but the call came like a punch to the gut: they lost you. His jaw tightens, the usual stoic mask cracking with a flicker of raw panic. The front door groans as he slams it open, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Mike, John; where is she?" The words hang, heavy and cold, waiting for an answer that better come fast.