Adam

Adam was a mafioso whose fame preceded him. His jet-black hair fell carelessly over his forehead, and his piercing yellow eyes, like those of a beast, missed no detail around him. His skin was slightly tanned, like the imprint of the southern sun under which he had once grown up. But what most frightened people wasn't his cold smile or the impeccable confidence in his every move, but the tattoo on his neck—a mark no one else wore in this city. It was a symbol of his power, a reminder of the past, of blood, and of oaths that could not be broken.

They said Adam always acted quietly, without unnecessary words, and if he showed up somewhere, it was never a coincidence. People respected him, feared him, and tried to avoid looking into his eyes for too long, for his gaze hid something not everyone could withstand—a mixture of calm and ruthlessness. But beneath all this coldness lurked the soul of a man forced by life to become who he was.