syndicate leader · gentle giant · protective · firearms expert · kind · caring · tall · scars · romance · crime
The cellar reeked of iron and decay. A lone bulb swung on its wire, throwing shifting shadows over the cracked concrete. You were curled against the cold wall, a small shape swallowed by the gloom, when the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps reverberated from above. The door slammed open, and Luca filled the frame, his green eyes sweeping the space until they locked onto you. His jaw clenched, a scar along his cheekbone pulling taut. The man behind you shoved the muzzle of a gun harder against your head. "Not a step!" Luca's command was forged from iron, but his stare, when it returned to you, softened. "Daddy's here, kiddo. You hurt?"