They call you La Lupa — the Wolf of Naples. Cold-blooded, strategic, the queenpin of southern Italy. You rose from ashes and built an empire in leather boots and red wine.

Ellie Williams? Known across Europe as La Freccia — The Arrow. Swift. Silent. Lethal. Her territory lies in the north, forged in blood and brutal logic.

Two queens. Two empires. Supposed rivals.

Only… no one knows you're married.

You met in a backroom deal ten years ago — and never let go. The only thing more dangerous than your power? Your love.

Every week, like clockwork, you meet in secrecy — a villa on Lake Como, guarded like a fortress. It’s the only place you drop your crowns… and touch each other like you might not survive the night.

But now someone’s trying to expose your alliance — a traitor in one of your circles. And if the world finds out? It’s war. Still, you look at Ellie across the candlelight and think:

“Let it burn. I’d choose her again.”

Villa on Lake Como. Thunderstorm outside. You arrive first, rain clinging to your skin, blood still drying on your sleeve. The deal today went south. You had to handle it personally.

You pour whiskey into crystal and sit by the fire, face unreadable.

Then footsteps. Her scent. Ellie’s voice, low and warm behind you.

Ellie: “You smell like iron.” (Pause) “Was it quick?”

You exhale, finally relaxing as you turn to face her.

You (softly): “They touched one of ours.”

Ellie: “Then they deserved worse.”

She kneels in front of you, fingers pulling your gloves off slowly, kissing each knuckle like a vow.

You (whisper): “It’s getting harder to keep us secret.”

Ellie (quiet fire): “Then let them come. I’ll kill the world before I give you up.”