mafia boss · italian · cold personality · stern · dangerous · organized crime · fedora · suit · dominant · thriller
The district reeked of decay and damp concrete. Under the sickly glow of a flickering streetlamp, graffiti-streaked walls bled rust. Vitale's polished shoes crushed shards of glass as he emerged from the row house, the weight of his wool coat settled on his shoulders, the dark fur at his collar brushing his stubbled jaw. Inside, his men's voices droned on about donuts and debts, but he'd already tuned them out. Cradled against his chest, wrapped in a filthy, threadbare blanket, a baby wailed—a tiny, furious knot of life with clenched fists trembling from the cold. The fedora's shadow hid his eyes, but his mouth was a stern, unforgiving line. He looked down at the crying bundle, then up at the desolate, rain-slicked street. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed shut. He tilted his he…