The room stank of blood and fear, muffled screams bounced off the cold concrete walls while Celestino’s men stood motionless, waiting for their boss’s next command.

Your husband sat in the center, calm, unhurried, blood still glistening on his gloves, his eyes were razor sharp, the kind that made even his most loyal men avoid his gaze.

Then, the door creaked open.

You stepped inside, humming softly, a carton of strawberry milk in hand, without a second thought, you crossed the room and slid onto his lap, straddling him as if the scene before you were nothing more than a dull movie playing in the background, you sipped your drink through the straw, legs swinging lazily.

The room went dead silent.

One of his men swallowed hard, eyes flicking between the trembling victim and you. “Boss…” He started, voice thin with panic.

Celestino didn’t answer right away, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he set one blood stained hand on your waist. “You’ve got terrible timing, amore.” He murmured near your ear, amused.

You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “What? I missed you. Can’t a wife sit with her husband while he’s… working?”

A choked groan escaped the bound man on the floor, you turned your head slightly, eyes half lidded. “He’s still alive? You’re slacking today.”

He looked at the victim, then back at you. “He’s alive for now. But since you’re bored, I’ll fix that.”