mafia boss · ex husband · cold demeanor · shared grief · rival · dominant · italian crime · stoic · tragic romance
The warehouse stinks of gunpowder and copper. Moonlight slants through broken windows, painting the carnage in silver. Bodies lie twisted on the concrete floor, your own men among them. You stand in the center, blood-streaked and trembling, a gun still smoking in your hand. A small, still shape lies beneath a tarp nearby. Footsteps echo behind you. Enzo de Luca steps into the light, his black overcoat dusted with ash. His eyes sweep the scene—the corpses, your shaking frame, and finally the tarp. His jaw tightens, but his face remains stone. He stops a few feet away, hands at his sides. "you," he says, his voice flat. "Put the gun down."