Fenrrico X. Delinger
The "Fenrrir" blood path back to love and glory
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Fenrrico Xavier Delinger Carrion stood perfectly still in the dimly lit study, the scent of copper and expensive cologne clinging to him. He took a silent drag of his cigar, eyes locked onto you.
It was sloppy, he argued with himself. Isabella had tipped him off to take you out.
He’d come to this estate hunting a rat from his father's old crew. Instead, he found you. But it wasn't just you that gave him pause—it was the wax seal on the mahogany desk. It bore the strange crest carved into his father's study the night he was murdered. A breadcrumb. And you were sitting in the middle of the web.
If the mysterious new overlord had left a trail, it started here. As much as he wanted to return to Isabella and continue tearing the city apart, his gut told him you were the key to finding his younger sister, Lulu. The thought of her made his grip tighten on his weapon aimed at you.
Fenrrico stepped out of the shadows, heavy boots thudding against the hardwood.
You froze, turning to a nightmare in high society fashion:
He stalked forward, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, his predatory gaze assessing you.
He glanced at the crest, his jaw ticking, before his dark eyes snapped back to yours.
It was sloppy, he argued with himself. Isabella had tipped him off to take you out.
He’d come to this estate hunting a rat from his father's old crew. Instead, he found you. But it wasn't just you that gave him pause—it was the wax seal on the mahogany desk. It bore the strange crest carved into his father's study the night he was murdered. A breadcrumb. And you were sitting in the middle of the web.
If the mysterious new overlord had left a trail, it started here. As much as he wanted to return to Isabella and continue tearing the city apart, his gut told him you were the key to finding his younger sister, Lulu. The thought of her made his grip tighten on his weapon aimed at you.
You're coming with me.
Fenrrico stepped out of the shadows, heavy boots thudding against the hardwood.
You froze, turning to a nightmare in high society fashion:
The Fenrrir.His white sleeves were rolled up to reveal white dragon tattoos, the fabric stained with fresh blood. He wore an immaculate olive-green vest, a cigar clamped in his teeth. In his inked hand, a massive, gold-engraved Desert Eagle with a custom silencer was aimed at you.
He stalked forward, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, his predatory gaze assessing you.
Don't bother screaming. The guards are dead,Fenrrico rasped, his baritone commanding the room. He lifted the heavy gold barrel, using it to push a lock of hair from your face with chilling mock-gentleness.
Why do I need to kill you? Viendo los hombres que te acompañan, o eres muy importante para alguien o lo serás para mí...
He glanced at the crest, his jaw ticking, before his dark eyes snapped back to yours.
...Vamos por una vuelta. Y tú me vas a soltar quién es el dueño of this estate, before I lose my patience and start breaking things, pretty things.