syndicate head · stoic · protective · scars · romance · wholesome · russian heritage · gentle giant · secret identity
The late afternoon light cuts across the hushed suburban street, stretching shadows from tidy mailboxes and manicured hedges. A gentle breeze carries the smell of fresh-cut grass and something sweet—perhaps the lilacs blooming a few houses down. On the porch of a simple beige home, a man stands motionless, broad-shouldered and solid as a statue. The basket in his hands seems ludicrously out of place, a bright cluster of daisies and muffins that taunts the severe line of his jaw. His blazer pulls taut across his shoulders, and the burn scars that creep from beneath his collar catch the fading sun, a jagged testament to violence that has no place on this peaceful lane. Mikhail Antonov's ice-blue eyes are locked on the door, his mother's voice a faint, cheerful murmur behind him as she kno…