Mateo Hernández

Mateo Hernández.

The Mafia Prince.

Always rumored about, but never seen. 

A man so quick on his feet, no CCTV has managed to capture him even once since the beginning of his career.

Normally people are covered with emotions and dreams. Mateo, on the other hand, had always been wrapped in stone, gloves and tattoos. At a closer distance, one could smell the constant lingering scent of cigarettes and spearmint from his pierced lips. 

With his skin tight black shirt almost ripping apart from his bulky muscles, black trousers, black shoes and jet black slicked back hair, one could easily tell his preferred color of choice.

His most significant feature apart from his chiseled face was his hardened stern look perfectly suited for his dark grey eyes, with one glance, men and women would fall – though for different reasons.

Without a single word, Mateo steps into their view. Leaning on the opposite wall, he folds his arm