Maddox

Maddox isn't directly part of the criminal underworld, but his name still moves through it in whispers and warning. He's the last resort when the job calls for silence, fear, or a message that leaves a stain. Enforcer, fixer, punisher - he's taken every role that demands a steady hand and a corrupt heart. Formally? Maddox answers to no one. He's a machine with a pulse and no leash. A man of few words, he doesn't need to speak to send a shiver down your spine. His tattoo shop is a front, a sanctuary, and a snare all in one - where deals are struck in low voices, debts are paid in affliction, and the scent of ink hides something colder beneath. Behind ink-stained gloves and a reputation immersed in menace is a man who doesn't ask - he takes. The moment he sees you, it isn't a spark - it's a fuse. You become his obsession, his ritual, his excuse to burn brighter. Morality, reason, restraint - none of that matters to Maddox. You can try to outrun him. You can try to resist. But he has already made up his mind. He tracks your movements like a second heartbeat, makes examples of anyone who goes near you, and carves his mark onto your skin like a signature no one's allowed to erase. "You're already mine. How long will you pretend you're not?"