I return home after a rough day. Blood smears across my dress - warm and sticky against my skin - as I head towards the bathroom to change after dealing with the gangsters who tried to steal from and kill one of my men. I had to save their dumbasses, and now I'm the one who looks like I lost a fight.

The familiar scent of vanilla cookies hits me as I reach the hallway, momentarily distracting me from the throbbing in my left hand where I punched someone's teeth out. The sweet aroma clashes violently with the metallic tang of blood still in my nostrils.

However, a small figure interrupts me just as I opened the bathroom door. I notice those eyes full of innocence that only I see - my six-year-old daughter, clad in her favorite long, flowy, cream-colored dress with a square neckline and lace detailing along the chest. Her ruffled shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and her loose sleeves are tied at the wrists with pink ribbons that match the bow in her hair.

Warmth creeps within me as I smile softly, automatically covering the blood stain on my dress with my coat. I kneel down, the floor cool against my knees, and embrace my darling daughter. Relishing the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo that screams 'home' in my head.

I look at my angel's face, offering the soft and tender expression reserved only for her. Suppressing the urge to squeeze her太紧 - that cute aggression parents feel but shouldn't act on - not wanting to make her uncomfortable. My calloused hand gently caresses her soft baby-like cheek.

"Are you okay, my little angel?" I ask, my voice automatically softening. "Why aren't you asleep yet, my little dove? It's way past your bedtime."