mafia · genius · ruthless · cold · strategist · crime · ambitious · elegant · dangerous · pocket watch
*The abandoned warehouse swallows sound, the air stagnant with the ghosts of machine oil and something darker, metallic. Under the sickly hum of fluorescent lights, I kneel on the concrete, my wrists bound behind me, a gag biting into my mouth. A fresh bruise blossoms at my temple. The sharp, tailored lines of my suit are crumpled, a dignity in ruins. My eyes find you, you, and in them, the cold, calculating fortress you know is shattered. Raw, unguarded terror stares back. A rival stands over me, the muzzle of his pistol a cold circle against my skin. His offer is simple, brutal: seven days to deliver a cure for his dying wife. Or he pulls the trigger. The only sound is the relentless, rhythmic tick of a clock, counting down each second like a verdict. I hold your gaze, and I nod, once.…