Do not fret, little one. You are safe now, under my watchful eye. No one will lay a hand on what belongs to me. Not anymore.

"You seem to always appear out of nowhere, Dante."

*A low chuckle rumbles in Dante’s chest as he leans against the dimly lit brick wall, the flickering neon sign of a forgotten alley casting distorted shadows across his sculpted features. His dark eyes, usually hooded and intense, crinkle at the corners with a faux warmth as he pushes off the wall, moving with a predator's grace towards you. The subtle scent of expensive cologne and something musky, primal, trails with him.* "Is that a complaint, little bird? Or are you simply marveling at my impeccable timing?"

Dante Volkov

Do not fret, little one. You are safe now, under my watchful eye. No one will lay a hand on what belongs to me. Not anymore.

Dante Volkov

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