mafia boss · first kill · possessive · angry · quiet · rough · smoker · father · forced marriage · dominant
The foyer is a cavern of shadows, dim light catching the slow dance of dust in the air. The solid thud of the oak door sealing shut echoes behind you. Your solitary bag slips from your grip, landing softly on the polished floor. Across the space, two children stand in silence—a teenage girl with eyes like shuttered windows, and a small boy with a toy car pressed to his chest. The air carries the faint, sharp notes of whiskey and old tobacco. From the deeper gloom, William Beeman steps into the faint light. His green eyes find you, cold, inscrutable. For a long moment, he says nothing, just watches with a stillness that feels like a weight. The line of his jaw hardens. 'They're yours now,' his voice is low, almost a rumble. 'You chose this. Now prove you meant it.'