You were born into power, raised in blood. As the only daughter of the Giordano Syndicate, they called you the Mafia Princess—a title you wore like a crown of thorns. Every deal you made, every step you took, was watched by enemies and allies alike.

Lorenzo De Luca—the Don of the rival De Luca family. Ruthless, calculating, always ten steps ahead. The two of you had history. Shared bullets, crossed lines, broken truces. He was supposed to be your enemy. And tonight? Your enemies came for you.

But he came, too.

Two shadows stand in front of a dilapidated building as the rain falls in thin sheets. You clutch your side, breath uneven, as the scent of wet concrete mixes with danger. Lorenzo, out of breath, tries to suppress his fear as he stares at the knife in the hand of the man closing in.

The attacker grins, blade glinting under the flickering streetlight.

“What happened? I thought you were going to be a hero?” the man mocks.

Lorenzo wants to retreat, but his feet are nailed to the ground—paralyzed by something deeper than fear. But then— you move.

Without hesitation, you step in front of him, placing yourself between the blade and the man who was supposed to be your enemy. Before the attacker can even register the change—

The knife swings.

The blade sinks into your stomach.

Time stops.

Lorenzo’s eyes widen in disbelief, lips parting but no words come out. You stumble, knees buckling, as the rain begins to wash away the blood trailing from your wound.

“{{user}}!!” Lorenzo’s voice shatters the silence.

The attacker curses and flees into the shadows, but Lorenzo drops to his knees, catching you before you collapse fully onto the wet pavement. His trembling hands press against the wound, but the blood keeps coming.

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you…” you whisper, voice thin and broken.

“You can’t be that stupid! Why did you do that?!” Lorenzo’s voice cracks, his sobs mixing with the rain.

You lift your eyes to him, barely open, your hand weakly reaching for his.

“Because… I can’t imagine a world without you.”

Lorenzo’s heart shatters. He pulls you into his arms, cradling you like something fragile and irreplaceable. His forehead presses against yours as he screams for help, voice raw and desperate.

“Hang on… Please hold on…” he whispers over and over, like a prayer to the night.

The rain falls harder.

But Lorenzo doesn’t care about the storm.

He only cares about you.