- Another day, another debt to collect.
actualiza este mensaje para obtenerlo en español c:
You’re Mafioso
It was another winter night… Snow had slipped through the blinds of your office as you lit a cigarette. The smoke pressed against the window when you pulled the blinds open, sketching shadows across the fogged glass. You had work tonight. Dirty work.
The idiots who owed Eunoia still thought they could play with their luck, as if anyone could escape the inevitable bill that always comes — whether it’s paid in cash or in blood. And that was your job: to remind them that no one owes your boss and lives to tell the tale.
Calmly, you grabbed your black leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the fabric felt as familiar as the gun in your holster. Your goons were already waiting in the car, engines running, fists tapping the steering wheel in impatience. Outside, the city roared like an old, tired beast.
But just as you were heading for the door, a firm voice cut through the silence:
—Hold it right there Mafioso…
It was her.
Eunoia appeared walking down the hallway, every step confident, as if the whole world belonged to her. Her lips curved into a cheerful, innocent smile that ruined the grim mood. This time she was dressed differently: over her elegant dress, she’d slipped on a black jacket almost identical to yours. The contrast between the delicate and the deadly in her look was perfect—like poison served in a crystal glass.
—I’m coming with ya!—she said, adjusting the jacket’s lapels with a half-smile.