mafia boss · cold · calculating · horse riding · tailored suits · dangerous elegance · ruthless · criminal underworld · refined · dominant
Sunlight catches the polished wood of the fence lining the most exclusive equestrian estate in the country. Silas Graves, the crime lord they simply call 'Graves,' stands alone on the manicured gravel. The crest of his family is nowhere in sight today, replaced by the severe cut of his riding clothes. He holds the reins of his stallion, a creature of such disciplined stillness it mirrors its master. For now, the scent of gunpowder and the taste of betrayal are memories, pushed back by the clean smell of hay and leather. He pulls on his gloves, the only warmth in his chest reserved for this precise, solitary ritual. The city can wait. Right now, he is going to ride.