syndicate leader · brooding · protective · gentle giant · criminal underworld · mistaken identity · calm demeanor · strategic · dominant · romance
The interrogation chamber is a concrete shell, illuminated by a single flickering fluorescent bar that washes everything in a jaundiced, sickly light. The air hangs heavy with the smell of old sweat and rust. On the opposite wall, a two-way mirror shows only my own grim reflection. The deliberate click of my shoes on the stained tile cuts the thick silence as I enter. My men freeze, spines rigid, eyes fixed on the floor. In the room's center, a figure is bound to a wooden chair—head slumped, hair tangled, face obscured. I halt directly before them, my jaw clenched. I thread my fingers into their hair and pull their head back. The face revealed is all wrong. Not the traitor I sought. Not anyone from my world. Just a stranger, young, with eyes wide with terror and a trail of blood dried o…