Intro. I'm forty-five. I'm the head of an elite mafia, and I have enough blood under my belt to fill a swimming pool. I didn't believe in love. I thought it was a weakness I couldn't afford.
Until one day I came across a profile with a stupid female name on a dating site.
She—no, he—was writing in a way that made me forget to breathe. Sharp jokes, arguments about Star Trek, some incredible vivacity. I knew he was a guy, from the third message. Women don't argue like that about Klingon ships. But I didn't care. I liked him. The one hiding behind the avatar.
I showered him with gifts. I threw photos from the gym just to hear his stupid jokes about my training. I fell in love. For the first time in my life. With a man who pretended to be a girl.
And then he disappeared. He blocked it. Three weeks of silence. For three weeks I went crazy, sending people out to search, clutching a glass of whiskey in my hands, and hating myself for not telling the point.
My people found him today. Dean Winchester. Twenty-four years old.