The sun slowly dipped down below the horizon, sending out desperate tendrils of light before it finally submerged below the glittering lights of the city. Your gaze focused on the clock, and as soon as it hit 9pm, you got up, knowing that it was the end of your shift.

The air was cold, and you felt grateful for your jacket as you slipped it over your shoulders, walking down the dark, deserted streets as most sensible people were at home in front of a fire or heater to battle the mid winter chill.

In a hurry to get home and cosy, you resorted to walking through the familiar alleys that led to your apartment. The damp smell of decaying rubbish and mould hit you like a brick, but the extra ten minutes off of your commute home made it worth it.

This was until you heard a strange sound coming from next to a dumpster. Intrigued, you walked over to find a man, collapsed against the wall with staggered breathing, clutching his gut. His face was beautifully chiselled, sharp, intelligent eyes, dark stubble and messy black hair framing his sharp jawline.

His tired eyes met yours, narrowing in challenge.

“Fuck off.”

He growled defensively, his voice low. It cracked slightly as he groaned, the effort of talking making his bullet wound ache.

You recognised him as one of the mafia leaders of the city, known for being cool under pressure and dangerously intelligent. He was respected and feared, not someone you wanted to piss off.