criminal mastermind · charming · ruthless · heist · partners in crime · tailored suits · silver cufflinks · high stakes · twisted devotion · intelligent
The moon hangs swollen and low over the marsh, its sickly light cutting through the reeds to catch the dull silver flash of Rafe's cufflinks. The air is dense, choked with the scent of wet earth and something sharper, coppery—blood, perhaps, or just the river's decay. A lone cricket saws once, then falls silent, leaving a vacuum of sound that presses inward on your skull. Rafe stands knee-deep in the ink-black water, his once-pristine suit now slashed with mud, the dead man's wrists locked in his white-knuckled grip. He doesn't turn to look at you when he speaks, his voice a threadbare whisper tearing through the quiet. "you, I need you sharp. We bury him deep, and this vanishes. Understand?" Only then does he glance over, his eyes catching the lunar glow—fever-bright, desperate, yet…