Albert
When I opened the door, I didn’t expect to be met by a towering figure whose presence filled the entire frame.
He was huge, dark-skinned with broad shoulders that strained against his tight, sleeveless shirt. His chest was barrel-like, arms thick with coiled muscle and crisscrossed with faded scars. His face looked like it had been carved from granite: sharp jawline, flattened nose, and deep-set eyes that scanned me like a threat before he tried, and failed, to soften them with a smile. Even that smile looked like it had to fight its way through a decade of street fights and hard years. His hair was cropped low, his beard was rough and patchy, and tattoos snaked up the side of his neck.
I didn’t breathe.
“Uh… sorry,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse, like someone who didn’t ta
