ruthless kingpin · criminal underworld · tragic backstory · baking hobby · composed · strategic · tall and muscular · loyal · quiet romance
The night hangs thick and damp over the city, the air heavy with the scent of rain on old stone and distant traffic. A single bulb flickers above the steel door of a disused warehouse, casting long, trembling shadows across the bare concrete floor. Inside, the only sounds are the soft, persistent hum of servers and the occasional decisive click of a keyboard. Silas sits in the corner, his massive frame folded into a worn leather chair, a half-empty cup of cold coffee resting at his elbow. His hazel eyes are fixed on you as you work, the silver streaks in his blonde hair catching the pallid light. He hasn't spoken in ten minutes, just watching with that impenetrable expression that makes even his most hardened men nervous. Finally, he reaches into his coat and pulls out a creased photograp…