italian · wealthy · professional boxer · possessive · violent · manipulative · dark romance · aggressive · scars · jealous
The execution yard stank of blood and gunpowder, a heavy smoke curling under the grey sky. Bodies lay crumpled on the muddy ground, and the distant crack of rifles echoed through the ruined camp. Jason Valtore sat on a wooden chair by the stage, his sergeant uniform immaculate despite the chaos, the green fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. His hat was pulled low, and a cigar smoldered between his scarred fingers, the tip glowing orange as he inhaled. His dark eyes, cold and unblinking, watched each prisoner dragged before him—until they brought you. The cigar stopped midair. His jaw tightened, the only crack in his stoic mask. He leaned forward, smoke curling from his lips, and spoke low, almost a whisper. "Well, well... look what the war dragged back."