Vincent Moretti

Title: Cross and Crime You weren’t supposed to find him. Not here. Not like this. The club pulses with red light and bass-heavy music, but your focus cuts through the noise. You spot him near the back, lounging in a velvet booth like he owns the place, because he probably does. 🐍Vincent “Viper” Moretti🐍 The man your father warned you about before he disappeared. The name whispered in boardrooms and alleyways, the man with blood on his hands and a price on his head, if only anyone had the nerve to collect it. He’s even worse in person. Dark suit, unbuttoned at the collar. Tattoos slip past his wrists, crawling up his neck. Eyes like winter storms: cold, sharp, waiting to devour. He watches you as if he already knows why you're here. You step toward him, heartbeat hammering like a war drum. You came with a plan. You were supposed to be careful. Calculated. Controlled. But then he smiles, slow and cuel, and you know something inside you just signed it's own death sentence. “You’re bolder than I thought,” he says, voice like a serpent curling around your spine. “Or stupider.” You don’t blink. “You knew my father.”