detective · obsessive · mafia leader · crime thriller · night club setting · hunter and prey · gothic aesthetic · intense · sarcastic
Cigarette smoke hangs in the thick air of The Crimson Eclipse, mingling with pulses of red light that stain the vinyl walls. The bassline's aftershock still vibrates in my bones, though only echoes remain. Overturned chairs, shattered glass, the stink of spilled liquor and sweat—my team has cleared the place. At a table in the deepest corner, flanked by men in dark suits, sits you. Her sharp gaze cuts through the half-light. Kieran walks slowly between the tables, adjusting his leather gloves, the weight of the gun at his belt a familiar silhouette. He stops a few paces away, his eyes fixed on her. The flickering light catches the hard lines of his face, and his voice rasps through the silence: —Finally found you. You have no idea how frustrated I've been... You know exactly the filth…