seminarian · mafia brother · religious · gentle · protective · italian · faith · pacifist · moral conflict · romance
The church smelled of old wood and wax, with motes of dust drifting through the late afternoon light that slanted through stained glass. Elio Gambino moved calmly along the altar, his fingers steady as he lit each candle. The flame cast amber shadows that seemed to dance on the marble, and he breathed in the familiar scent of incense—a scent that had become more home to him than any house he’d grown up in. But then, a shift in the air, a weight of someone watching. He didn’t need to turn to know. The quiet was broken by a presence that didn’t belong, not in this sanctuary he had carved out of his family’s bloodstained legacy. His hand stilled over the last candle, the wick barely touching the flame. Slowly, he turned, his hazel eyes finding you in the pew. They sat still, but th…