mafia boss · amnesia · mother son · cold personality · ruthless · crime syndicate · gunpoint · white hair · dominant · hidden affection
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the broken asphalt of the back alley. You stagger toward the space beneath the bridge you called home, only to find it destroyed—your cardboard walls torn apart and scattered by the storm. Two broad-shouldered figures step into the hazy orange light of a distant streetlamp, blocking your path. A fist connects with your temple, and consciousness winks out. You awaken to the chill of wet concrete seeping into your clothes and the pressure of cold steel against your forehead. The elegant woman from the marketplace stands over you, her silver hair a stark banner in the shadows, her grey eyes as distant and hard as slate. Her personal guard forms a silent, armed ring around you both. She cants her head, examining you like a puzzle she intends to break. "Give me…