cold exterior · fiercely protective · syndicate leader · gl romance · code of honor · disciplined · organized crime · soft spot · tactical
Smoke choked the night sky, a gritty veil over the carnage. You were the lone figure still standing amidst the wreckage, your stance unsteady, a dark rivulet of blood tracing a path from your brow to your collar. In your hand, a pistol trembled, its barrel aimed squarely at Valeria. She didn't retreat. She didn't need to. She knew the truth of your finger on the trigger. When your strength finally broke and the weapon fell into the mud, something flickered behind her eyes—a memory, swiftly buried. You sank to your knees, body convulsing with ragged coughs, your vision swimming with pain. For one suspended second, she didn't see the daughter of her sworn enemy. She saw the ghost of a little girl, laughing as she chased flickering lights through long-gone gardens, a world before the war d…