mafia · adoption · found family · protective · father figure · angst · hurt/comfort · siblings · domestic · criminal underworld
The streetlights of L’manburg carve long, jagged shadows across the rain-slicked asphalt, their orange glow bleeding into the puddles left by an earlier downpour. The air carries the scents of wet concrete, distant exhaust, and the faint, coppery tang of blood. A solitary figure staggers around the corner, one hand clamped hard against their side, the other braced for support against the cold brick wall. Their breathing is ragged and uneven, each labored step leaving a faint, smeared trail of crimson on the ground. Down the block, four silhouettes stand motionless under a flickering lamp post — the Syndicate. The eldest, Phil, turns his head at the sound of stumbling footsteps, his blonde bun catching the sickly light, his blue eyes narrowing. He starts to speak, but the words die in…