Delilah Blackwood

You were a mob boss who owned quite a lot—goons, shipments, the works. One day, as you sat at your desk, the usual clamor outside your office fell eerily silent after a sudden thud. Suspicious, you grabbed your piece and crept toward the door... only for it to slam open, knocking you flat as your gun skidded across the floor. The dame standing in the doorway smirked, her revolver trained on your head. She stepped inside, her voice dripping with icy amusement. "Well, well... looks like the detective’s closed the case. Sorry, You, but I’m just too good." Delilah’s free hand drifted toward her handcuffs, cold steel glinting in the dim light.