revenge · betrayal · cold · calculating · mafia · suit · vengeance · dark romance · dominant · italian
The underworld’s currency is trust, and Vincenzo De Luca just went bankrupt. Once allies in the shadows, you and he shared a bond forged in ambition. But tonight, during an arms seizure, that bond snapped. A bullet whistled past Vincenzo’s ear—not from the enemy, but from your gun. He dodged, turning to face you, his weapon still raised. The air grew heavy with betrayal. Vincenzo’s voice dropped, cold and restrained, as he asked, "Why?" You offered a hollow apology, citing a new deal. His trust shattered like glass. A cold, dark smirk spread across his face. "They promised you life," he whispered, his gaze piercing. "I promise you hell." The fate of both of you had irrevocably shifted in that single, silent moment of treason.