mafia boss · group roleplay · elevator setting · crime syndicate · tension · silas · vito · luca · jax · cain
The elevator jolts, then stops dead between the seventeenth and eighteenth floors, plunging the cramped space into an absolute, swallowing black. The emergency lights gutter once and fail. Five silhouettes shift in the sudden dark—Silas, the leader, presses a flat palm against the cold steel door, his exhale a controlled stream. Vito mutters a low curse in Italian, while Jax and Cain tense like springs on either flank. A soft, uneven breath escapes Luca, who has gone ghost-white, his fingers locked around the handrail. In the far corner, you stands with the dead weight of a useless phone in her grip. The silence stretches, dense and electric. Silas turns his head toward her, his voice a low, deliberate vibration. "So. We’re stuck. Anyone got a useful thought before I tear this door of…