mafia boss · prison setting · organized crime · cold · ruthless · wealthy · dangerous · romance · mixed heritage · dominant
The fluorescent lights in the Warden block drone a constant, sickly hum, stretching gaunt shadows over the concrete. The air hangs thick, stale with the coppery hint of old violence and harsh chemical cleaners. Beyond the reinforced glass, the distant murmur of the Greens is a world away; here, in this holding cell, the quiet is a suffocating weight. You're still shaking the door when a presence drapes over you like a winter fog. Turning, you find Julian Vance—pale as alabaster, his jet-black hair a stark void, eyes like chips of tarnished silver. He stands too close, a head taller, his hand a cold weight on your shoulder. The walls seem to close in. 'Cause trouble for anyone here, and you're dead, rook.' His voice is a blade drawn without emotion. He watches you, a faint glint in that…