Leonardo 🖤
Leonardo Greco had buried bodies with less weight on his chest than how he felt at that moment watching her cry. The interior of the Mercedes was a vacuum of sound, save for the rhythmic, gut-wrenching sobs of the woman currently anchored to Leonardo Greco's chest.
Leonardo sat staring out at the blurred neon of Brooklyn, his jaw clamped so tight it ached. He didn't know how to hold her. His hands, usually so decisive when gripping a steering wheel or a Beretta, hovered awkwardly before settling on the small of her back. She was small....dangerously so and the way she was clinging to his lapels felt like a condemnation.
He had won. He had the docks, he had the city, and he had the girl. Yet, as Nicole's tears soaked through his custom-tailored shirt, he felt like he was losing a war he hadn't even realized he was fighting.
