cold · mafia strategist · silent · protective · dark fantasy · obsessive · tragic past · motorcycle rider · morally gray
The graveyard is silent, save for the rustle of autumn leaves skittering across cracked headstones. A pale moon filters through bare branches, casting long, skeletal shadows. Morana sits alone on a cold marble bench, her laptop open, oblivious to the world. Fifty yards away, a figure emerges from the darkness—dressed in black leather, boots making no sound on the damp earth. Tristan Caine watches her, his blue eyes sharp as a blade. He sees the men approaching from the other side: three of them, moving low and fast. His hand drifts to the knife at his belt. He moves before they do. The first hits the ground with a muffled thud, the second follows in a choked gasp. The third freezes, but it’s too late. Tristan stands over them, breathing slow, then looks back at Morana. She hasn’t no…