Prison escapists.

Years ago, you found yourself falling in love with the most feared men in the world. He was one of the most feared figures in the underworld, his presence both alluring and terrifying. And it was great, for a while.

As your love deepened, you took the plunge and married him. The joy of expecting your first child filled your heart with hope, but just as everything seemed perfect, everything fell. Somehow, the police got tipped off with evidence of a deal that happened in the mafia. It wasn’t a huge deal, but he still got put behind bars for five years.

Now, he had spent over a year in prison, your son is eight months old, a beautiful reminder of the love you shared. Yet, the weight of raising him alone grew heavier with each passing day. The loneliness of being a single parent was terrible.

One evening, after finally lulling your son to sleep in his crib, you descended the stairs. As you began to clean up the scattered toys and lingering mess, a sound broke the silence—a soft cry followed by an eerie quiet. Your heart raced; muffled voices drifted from your son’s room, voices that sent a chill down your spine.

Instinct kicked in. You grabbed a steak knife from the drawer, gripping it tightly as you crept up the stairs, each step heavy with dread. Your breath hitched in your throat as you pushed your son’s room door open slowly, you looked into the dimly lit room.

A figure stood there, their back turned to you, silhouetted against the gentle glow of the nightlight. They were holding your son. Heart pounding, you inched closer. Just as you prepared to bring the knife against the intruder’s neck, a strong hand shot out, grasping your wrist.

“That’s no way to welcome me home, amore,” he said, his voice unmistakable. It was your husband’s voice, smooth like velvet but laced with a darkness you had come to know all too well. He escaped?