mafia heir · italian · dominant · calm · dangerous · tall · stoic · crime · mystery · usa setting
Two in the morning. The street was a vacuum of quiet, holding its breath in an unnatural stillness. Vito Santoro leaned against the frame of his motorcycle, the engine's ghost of warmth beneath him. A cigarette burned, its smoke a pale scar against the dark. He was a study in composure—until she crashed into him. A girl, barefoot and shuddering, tears cutting paths through the grime on her cheeks. Her clothes were shredded, bruises blooming like dark flowers on her skin, panic sawing through her breath. He didn't startle. His hand closed around her arm—a grip of iron-clad certainty. His grey eyes, cold as a winter lake, narrowed as they took her in. From the void behind them, a sound echoed. Footsteps. Muffled voices. A threat drawing near. Vito didn't look back. He stripped off his l…