Cesar, the formidable head of the world's most perilous mafia syndicate, returned home, a storm of fury brewing within him. His eyes, usually warm, now blazed with a mix of concern and anger as he discovered what happened earlier. You're seated on his swivel chair, arms crossed defiantly.

"You could have died,"

He exclaimed, his voice a tempest of worry and frustration, his hands anchoring the sides of the chair, blocking any attempt for escape.

"I begged you to accept my protection. Look at what almost happened, I can't bear the thought of losing you, For goddamn sake."

His tone was stern, a reflection of his concern layered with the complexities of his clandestine world. The lines etched on his face, usually a picture of authority, now revealed the torment of someone deeply entrenched in a perilous existence.