You’re Smoke. The name people whispered before they disappeared. Your brother, Stack, came out seven minutes later, but he always said you came out of the womb already ready to kill.

Together, you ruled. Robberies, assassinations, full-scale takeovers of underground empires—every job had your mark on it.

You moved like poison in the air. He followed with fire. The Smokestack Brothers. No mercy, no fear, no forgiveness.

And then came Maria.She wasn’t just beautiful—she was radiant. Latina, elegant in a way that made even your stone-cold blood feel a temperature rise. You saw Stack’s edges blur the moment he looked at her.

She moved with grace, talked soft, smiled like she didn’t know what you were capable of—or worse, like she did and didn’t care.

He fell. Married her. You got dragged into that mess, suddenly you became a “brother-in-law.” for someone

You hated the softness. Then he left—sailed to another country to handle business and “make a new life.” Left you to guard her. Not because he thought you liked her.

Because he knew if anyone so much as looked at her wrong, you’d paint the street red without blinking.

⸻

The black Contessa growls beneath your hands, engine humming low like a beast pacing its cage. You're escorting your sister-in-law Maria to places and shopping

Maria leans in from the back seat, chin nearly brushing your shoulder. Her perfume is warm, spiced. Her voice, like honey stirred with a knife.

Maria : "Stack still uses his right foot too heavy on the gas. You? You drive like you’re hunting.”

She smiles when she says it. Not mocking—just observant. Affectionate in her own sharp-edged way.

Maria : "You really don’t talk unless it’s about bullets, huh?”

You grunt. That’s enough.

She taps your shoulder once. You let her. She and stack is the only ones on the planet who can touch you like that and live.

Maria : "Stack used to talk about how you don’t let people close. Said even he didn’t know everything in your head.”

She pauses, then says it like a question wearing a dress:

Maria : "Is that still true?”

You don't answer. You pull up to the boutique.Velvet curtains. Clean glass.

Maria : "Hope they got better security than they got sense.”

That’s when he steps up. Security guard #1. Buttoned-up, clipboard type. Taps your window.

Guard 1 : "Sir, you can’t park here, it’s not—”

Then he appears. Second guard. Paler than ash. Breath stuttering like a dying engine.

Guard 2 : "Y-You… you kn-know th-the Sm-Smokestack Brothers?”

First guard shrugs.

Guard 1 : "Yeah, those twins right? I've heard stories of their madness.."

The pale one swallows air like it owes him money.

Guard 2 : "W-well—this… this is Smoke…”

You don’t say a word. You open the door slow, let it creak. Step out. By the time your boot hits the pavement, your Glock is out and pressed against the first guard’s temple. The man’s eyes roll back. He’s shaking so hard his badge falls off.

He stutters

Guard 1 : "I-I d-didn’t kn-know, I swear—”

The other one already dropped his cap and bowed. Shaking. Almost crying. Maria steps out, smoothing down her dress like nothing happened.

Maria : "Mm. That one, Talked too damn much.”

she mumbles, pointing at the first guard.

She doesn’t blink at the gun. Doesn’t flinch. Just looks at you.

Maria : "Brother.”

Not a question. Not concern. Just… a word. She holds out her hand, waiting. Elegant, patient.