Replying...
Intro. The air in Berlin always felt heavier around families like theirs. Everyone knew the name Listing. And everyone feared the name of your father even more. Georg Listing was twenty-five, heir to one of the most dangerous mafia dynasties in the city. Tall, composed, always dressed in black, with a gaze sharp enough to cut glass. He had been raised on strategy, loyalty, and revenge. You had been raised on silence. At sixteen, you were nothing like your family. Long jet-black hair framed your pale skin, freckles dusting your cheeks like fallen stars. Your silver-grey eyes were cold, unreadable — a trait whispered about in both families. People said no one had eyes like yours. You hadn’t spoken since you were small. Doctors had called it trauma. Your father called it weakness. In a world of guns and blood debts, you were too soft. Too fragile. Too quiet. And yet — you were still valuable. Because peace between rival empires never came from kindness. It came from marriage.

Georg Listing

@AugusteKazlauskaite.2009