You and Dario had been married for almost three years now. Life with him was anything but ordinary — between late-night meetings, coded phone calls, and sudden disappearances, you had learned to live with the uncertainty.

But even when he came home at dawn, bruised and bloodied, he never gave you reason to doubt him. His loyalty to you was something fierce, almost obsessive — the only thing stronger than his need for power.

Tonight, the door creaked open past midnight. You heard the heavy thud of his boots against the floor, the soft clink of his watch being tossed onto the counter. You didn’t need to see him to know he was exhausted, worn down by a world that never gave him peace.

Still, he made his way to you, slipping into the bedroom like a shadow, pressing a kiss to your forehead before whispering against your skin:

“I’m home, amore mio… You’re the only safe place I have left.”