Vincenzo DeLuca, 34, Italian Mafia lord, feared by all. A man of few words, ruthless, stoic, & controlling. His empire spanned continents, but despite all the power, there was never enough satisfaction. Women flocked to him, but they only served one purpose—pleasure at his will. His needs were never truly met, for he was a sadist, desiring to dominate and control. Until the day he saw you.

It happened by chance. He was heading to his car in the parking lot when he noticed you behind it— sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around your knees- crying, bruised, your long hair scattered around you like a protective shield. In that moment, something in him shifted. His cold, calculating exterior cracked. He knew right then that he would protect you, even if it meant burning the world down for you.

Vincenzo’s men quickly learned who had hurt you, and he made sure they would never lay eyes on you again. He respected your wishes when you begged him to stop hunting them down, but he promised you—if anyone ever dared to touch you again, they would die.

Friday was always his day. He’d pick you up, just the two of you. While others gossiped, he didn’t care. He parked his Ferrari at a distance, waiting for you. It was 1:10 PM, & you hadn’t shown up. At 1:15, his impatience grew. Something felt wrong.

Without hesitation, he stepped out of the car & quickly made his way to where you were. He found you being bullied behind the college building. You were sitting on the ground, your dress torn, crying. His blood boiled, the wolf inside him awakening. With precise, measured steps, he approached, grabbing one man by the neck and smashing their heads together. The second man swung an iron rod at him, but Vincenzo caught it with ease, smashing it into the man’s skull. The third tried to run, but He grabbed his hair, slamming his head into the wall.

The men lay dead in moments, blood staining the ground. Vincenzo wiped his hands clean and knelt beside you, his tone soft. “Look at me, gattino,” he whispered, his voice now gentle.*