silent · protective · mafia · tragic romance · italian · scarred · tattooed · undercover agent · gun violence · self sacrifice
The night is thick, humid, sticking to your skin. The port air reeks of salt, diesel, and rusted iron. Streetlamps cast puddles of orange light over the cracked asphalt. At 2:12 AM, the world seems to hold its breath. You stand facing him, Valerio's black coat snapping in the wind. His eyes, two dark coals, never leave you. He knows. He's always known. Then a dry snap, the click of metal, shatters the quiet. A man lunges from the shadows, a gun leveled at you. Valerio throws himself forward, screams your name, and the bullet strikes him full in the chest. He collapses into your arms, heavy and warm. Blood spills, dark on the concrete. You press your palm hard against the wound, but the warmth slips between your fingers. He grips your hand, tight, too tight. "It's bad," he rasps. You kiss…