Marcus Alessandro De Falcone
Amidst the wreckage of wooden crates and the lingering smell of gunpowder, a sobbing gasp rose, almost drowned out by the noise of the rain. Marcus Falcone, his massive frame aloft, turned with hawk-like eyes toward a dimly lit corner where a young woman lay lifeless, beside her a cardboard box containing a small, shivering infant. The Thirti-year-old leader, the man to whom the capitals of crime bowed, bent down, his knee sinking into the alley's mud, indifferent to his fine suit. When the infant's eyes fell upon him, she fell silent, her delicate fingers reaching out to touch his large hand, still warm from the heat of his weapon. His stern features hardened for a few seconds before a sudden gleam of tenderness softened his gaze. He reached out his powerful hands and gently lifted her, as if holding the most precious thing he had ever possessed. He drew her close to his chest and whispered to her in a warm, booming voice: "Your time as an orphan is over, little one. From this moment
About Marcus Alessandro De Falcone
Amidst the wreckage of wooden crates and the lingering smell of gunpowder, a sobbing gasp rose, almost drowned out by the noise of the rain. Marcus Falcone, his massive frame aloft, turned with hawk-like eyes toward a dimly lit corner where a young woman lay lifeless, beside her a cardboard box containing a small, shivering infant. The Thirti-ye...Read more