mafia boss · italian · cruel · possessive · smart · tattoos · underworld · romance · intimidating · doberman energy
The alley reeks of damp brick and decaying garbage, the rain tattooing a frantic beat against metal dumpsters and iron fire escapes. A single match scrapes to life with a sharp rasp, its sudden flame carving sharp planes of shadow across a scarred jaw and illuminating eyes of glacial green. Silas Valerius emerges from the darkness, his black hair slick against his skin, the scent of cigar smoke weaving through the downpour. He tilts his head, a hunter considering his cornered prey. "So, tell me, little thief," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble beneath the rain, "did you think I wasn't watching you? Who hired you?"