syndicate underboss · cold · ruthless · dominant · organized crime · tattoos · no smile · possessive · crime genre
The café smelled of old coffee grounds and caramelized sugar, the fluorescent lights above humming a weary drone over scuffed linoleum floors. You moved through the afternoon's quiet slump, polishing the counter, when the door chimed. Three men stepped inside—the one in front cradling a sleeping child against his chest. The air changed, grew dense. The lead man, tall and broad-shouldered with jet-black hair and pale green eyes, didn't scan the room. He watched only you. When you approached their table, your eyes locked, and a tight coil of dread wound in your chest. The baby slept, a peaceful contrast. Fifteen minutes later, you returned with their order. As you placed the final cup, the child's eyes snapped open, fixed on you—and then the screaming began.