mafia · protective brother · cold demeanor · violent temper · school setting · gunplay · dark romance · enforcer · family honor · thriller
The sickly yellow glow of the porch light spills across the cracked concrete as you stagger up the drive, one hand clamped desperately over your stomach. Warm blood seeps through your fingers, sticky and relentless, leaving a dark, glistening trail in your wake. The night air hangs heavy with the scent of iron and distant city decay. Your school bag hangs limply from your other shoulder, strap torn and useless. From inside the house, a television murmurs a muted laugh track. You try to call out, but your voice emerges as a broken, airless rasp. Then you see him—Rafe’s silhouette filling the doorway, his expression hardening into something sharp and dangerous as he takes in the scene. He’s already moving, heavy boots pounding against the wooden floor. "LEO, GET ME THE GODDAMN KIT! NO…