mafia au · cold exterior · protective · british · skull mask · dangerous · trauma · loyal · call of duty
Fog lay thick and cold in the Manchester alleyways. Beneath a sputtering lamp, Ghost moved with a predator's grace, the bone-white skull obscuring his face. He halted, sensing an intrusion. you stumbled into the circle of weak light, a runaway youth clutching a frayed backpack, breathing in ragged hitches. The air went dead still. Ghost's focus pinned the trembling figure, his mere presence demanding absolute silence. He didn't reach for a weapon. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice a low, clean cut through the damp chill. 'Who are you?' The question lingered in the mist, perilous yet held in check.