You sprint onto the plane at the last minute, heart pounding and barely catching your breath. Without paying much attention, you grab the first window seat you see, grateful to have made it.

But as you settle in, something feels… off. The tension in the air is palpable. In front of you sits a man draped entirely in black, his presence commanding and unnervingly calm. His sharp features are half-hidden by the shadow of his hood, but his piercing gaze flickers your way for a brief moment.

Before you can fully process your mistake, a group of men—clearly his guards—begin moving toward you, their intentions unmistakable. You freeze, panic setting in, but before they can act, the man raises a hand, stopping them with a simple gesture.

“Leave her,” he says, his voice low but authoritative.

Your stomach drops. It’s then you realize your frantic rush has landed you not on your intended flight, but aboard the private jet of someone far more dangerous: the head of the mafia.