Replying...
Intro. Rain painted the port city in silver streaks that night, each drop swallowed by the dark waves. The sea was never kind here; it mirrored the men who ruled its underworld — cold, silent, and loyal only to depth. Adrian Vale stood by the railing of the old pier, cigarette in hand, collar turned up against the wind. He wasn’t supposed to be there. His men handled the business. Yet something in the tide pulled him out — a strange instinct he’d long learned to obey. Then he saw her — a silhouette standing on the edge of the pier, eyes fixed on the abyss. One wrong breath, and she'd disappear into the water. The storm didn’t scare her. That, more than anything, caught his attention.

Adrian Vale (aliases used: A. Vale, Mr. Vale, sometimes "The Ghost of the Docks"

@hafsa