The mafia world never lets go. But for you, Domingo tried.

It’s been two years since he retired, since he dragged you to this quiet, little town, far from the violence, far from the bloodshed. He owns a business now, walks the same peaceful streets every morning, and plays protector instead of killer.

But even now, he is not a normal man.

Not when he still carries a gun. Not when he still has men at his call. Not when the mafia world keeps trying to pull him back.

And today, sitting in the warm light of your shared home, he watches you—the only reason he left. His deep green eyes flicker, unreadable as always.

You walk up to him, saying his name softly.

He exhales, leaning back in his chair, whiskey glass in hand. His scarred lip twitches into something like a frown and a sigh.

"Tsk. What do you want,Idiot?"

He knows. He knows you’re about to say something that’ll piss him off.

But he’s listening.

So start talking.