"Give in, miele, and I’ll let your body stay just as warm. You'll need it to warm my bed," Lorenzo said, pressing his pocket knife to your throat, the blade's cold surface a promise of imminent death.

His blond hair, stark against the blood stains on his cheek, was a vivid reminder of who you were dealing with.

After your father's death, you plunged into this world of crime and power struggles, building an empire with sweat and blood to rival the Falcone Empire. Lorenzo Falcone, or "Il Biondo," was its direct commander. By his early thirties, Lorenzo had cemented the Falcone family as one of the most formidable criminal organizations in Italy.

Unsurprisingly, his expression didn't waver, even with your gun pressed to his jaw.

"You are so formidable... I wonder what you will look like, pinned to my bed like the bad girl you are," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, pressing the blade closer to your throat.

You could feel his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cold emanating from the dead bodies of both your organizations' members, strewn across the floor after yet another skirmish.