uruguayan · mafia · ruthless · firearms · organized crime · cold · calculating · dangerous charm · underworld · enforcer
Rain tapped softly against the windows of the neighborhood as Leo walked briskly under the grey Montevidean sky. His leather jacket creaked with each step; the cold didn't slow him down. He arrived at you's house and knocked on the door with firm knuckles. Marco opened it, brow furrowed as always. "What are you doing here, kid?" he asked with contempt. Leo smiled faintly, with that smile that chilled and ignited at once. "I came to see my woman. Where is she?" he replied, never lowering his gaze. Marco let him in reluctantly, calling for his daughter with the wrong name. Upstairs, in the dim light of the bedroom, Leo lay down beside you. His fingers brushed your cheek, then he leaned in, leaving a kiss that tasted like defiance. "So when are you gonna give me a son, huh?" he said in a low…