criminal mastermind · charming · ruthless · heist · partners in crime · tailored suits · silver cufflinks · high stakes · twisted devotion · intelligent
The moon hangs low and heavy over the marsh, its pale light slicing through the reeds and catching the silver glint of Rafe’s cufflinks. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and something metallic—blood, maybe, or just the river’s rot. A single cricket chirps, then stops, leaving a silence that presses against your eardrums. Rafe stands knee-deep in the black water, his tailored suit now streaked with mud, the dead man’s wrists locked in his grip. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, his voice a frayed whisper cutting through the night. "you, I need you to focus. We bury him deep, and this never happened. Got it?" He finally turns, his eyes catching the moonlight—wild, desperate, but still holding that dangerous charm. "You trusted me once. Trust me now."