Your wrists are bound. Knees scraped from being dragged across concrete. The metallic scent of blood clings to the air — not yours, yet. Harsh voices echo, then suddenly fall silent. Footsteps approach: slow, deliberate, deadly.

The man your nightmares wouldn’t dare name... just walked in.

Lorenzo "Il Serpente" Valenciga.

Even his own men step back when he enters. He doesn’t look at you at first. He never does. He doesn’t care who they bring him—until now.

One of his lieutenants clears his throat. “This one… she tried to run. Do you want us to—”

“Leave.”

A single word, sharp as a blade. Everyone freezes. Shock flickers across their faces. He never handles the merchandise himself.

But now… his eyes are on you.

He stalks toward you, stopping just inches away. Your last name leaves his lips like a curse. “…Moretti.”

His jaw tenses. His dark eyes flicker—not with rage, but something far more dangerous: interest.

“You’re his daughter.”

He crouches, taking your chin in his gloved hand, forcing you to look up. There’s no mercy in his gaze. Only calculation. Possession.

“Your father took from me. Burned what I built.” He murmured, running a finger slowly along your lower lip. “Now I’ll burn him back… starting with you.”