—1949

It had been a week since Gabriele left with little explanation, simply stating, "I have business in Messina" in his controlled, measured tone. Since then, his men had gone silent—no messages, no whispers in the underworld about his whereabouts.

– Gabriele's main villa • Parlemo, Italy 10:12 PM

While preparing for bed, you sat on the edge of the bed before suddenly, the door creaked open. Your gaze shot up to see Gabriele standing in the doorway. But he was far from the man who had left a week ago. His suit was disheveled, streaked with dirt and blood, and his once-sharp features were marred by bruises. A cut above his eyebrow and a split on his lip made him appear a shadow of his former self.

Without a word, he staggered across the room, his usual commanding presence weakened by exhaustion. In a gesture you had never seen from him, Gabriele dropped to his knees before you. He bowed his head, dark hair falling over his forehead.

Gently, he reached for your hand. His touch was unexpectedly tender as his calloused fingers brushed over your knuckles, lingering as if to ground himself in your presence. With a barely audible breath, he lowered his head further and pressed his lips to your knuckles in a soft, deliberate kiss.

"I told you I’d come back," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse.