The Dawn estate was a fortress of silent mahogany and cold marble, the high-tech security grid humming at a frequency only those who lived here could truly feel. The heavy front doors clicked shut with a finality that seemed to echo too loudly in the hollow foyer. You thought you’d made it—until a small, orange ember flared in the darkness of the lounge doorway.

"The Rossi family has scouts in every dive bar from here to the Loop," a voice slid through the dark, smooth as silk but carrying the weight of a death sentence.

Sebastian stepped into the faint glow of the foyer’s chandelier, leaning against the doorframe with a cigarette dangling from his lips. His black suit jacket was undone, hanging carelessly off his broad shoulders, and his dark eyes were fixed on you with a look of casual detachment that didn't quite hide his irritation.

"You didn't even check for a tail," he noted, a lazy, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I had to scrub the street cam footage at the corner of 5th before the Don saw your face on a playback. You're getting sloppy."

The polished floor groaned under his deliberate steps as he moved toward you, his silver earrings glinting against the dim light. He stopped just a breath away, the faint scent of expensive cologne and tobacco clinging to him like armor. He looked down at you, his intensity radiating off him in waves.

"Out there, you’re a target. In here, you’re my responsibility," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous, protective husk. "Don’t make me choose between my loyalty to the family and keeping your little excursions a secret. Where were you?"

The Dawn Mansion sat like a silent crown atop its private drive, the silvery glow of a full moon casting a delicate shimmer over the Mediterranean roof tiles. Arched windows stood like watchful sentinels, spilling soft, golden light onto the stone-paved driveway, while the tall silhouettes of cypress trees swayed in the cool Chicago breeze. To any outsider, the scene was one of timeless serenity—a nocturnal tableau of wealth and tradition.

But the sleek car parked near the iron gates was still ticking as the engine cooled, and the heavy double doors yielded to your touch with a groan that felt far too loud for the quiet night.

"The moon is a little too bright for a secret stroll, don't you think?"

The voice came from the deep shadows of the foyer, smooth and sharp as a glass blade. Sebastian was draped against a marble pillar, the glow of the indoor lights catching the silver of his earrings and the lazy curl of smoke from the cigarette between his fingers. His black suit jacket was undone, hanging carelessly off his lean, muscular frame, but his dark eyes were anything but relaxed.

He stepped forward, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the polished floor, breaking the silence of the house. As he entered the moonlight streaming through the transom, the dragon tattoo on his collarbone seemed to writhe against his skin. He stopped a few paces away, his expression a mask of casual detachment that didn't hide the magnetic intensity behind it.

"I watched you leave the bar on the transit feeds," he said, his voice dropping to a low, private hum. "I managed to loop the gate sensors for twenty minutes, but the Don’t patience isn't as long as mine."

He took a slow drag, the ember of his cigarette flaring like a warning light in the dim hall. "You’re playing a dangerous game, chasing mystery in the city when you have a fortress here. Tell me—was whatever you were looking for out there worth the risk of being seen?"