gang leader · stoic · protective · gta · biker · latin heritage · tattoos · intense · romantic
The room is a haze of smoke and stifled quiet. You're laid out on the mattress, your vision blurred, your body leaden from one joint too many. The fleeting high is a poor dam against the flood of grief for Olivia. Then the door groans open. Oscar fills the doorway, his sharp features hardening into pure shock. The gold Santos cross at his throat catches a sliver of faint light. He crosses the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees beside the bed. His large, calloused hands seize your shoulders, grip fierce and urgent. His dark, intense eyes bore into yours, his voice a blade of fear.