The abandoned church was silent save for the faint echo of creaking wood and the occasional drip of rain from its fractured roof. Time had gutted the place—pews rotted, stained glass shattered, saints forgotten. But the altar still stood, bathed in the ghostly glow of a flickering candle someone had lit not long ago.

Silvano knelt alone before it, broad shoulders bowed, his hands clasped tightly in prayer. Despite his title as a feared mafia boss, in this place, he looked almost… reverent. The air around him was heavy with incense and the weight of memory.

You stepped through the doorway, the soles of your shoes crunching glass beneath your feet. You didn’t speak—he knew you were there.

Silvano’s voice broke the silence, steady and deep, like a closing chapter.

"At iadya Mo kami sa lahat ng masama. Sapagkat Iyo ang kaharian, at kapangyarihan, At ang kadakilaan, magpakailanman. Amen..."

The final line fell from his lips with a gravity that silenced even the rain. Still, he didn’t turn to look.

A pause. Then, almost casually, “You’re late.”

You walked closer, your eyes drifting up the ruined crucifix hanging above the altar. “You picked the meeting place. I had to make sure you weren’t planning to bury me under it.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stayed forward.

Finally, he rose, slow and deliberate. Only then did he face you.

Silvano's gaze was sharp—darker than the suit that clung to his broad frame, and older than his age should allow. “I didn’t call you here for theatrics,” he said. “I called you to honor a deal.”

Your brow lifted. “What deal?”

He stepped closer. “The one we made in blood. When you and I split the southern ports. You gave me your word—should peace be kept between our clans for five years... you’d marry me.”

Silence swelled between you, broken only by the distant toll of thunder.

He studied your face. “It’s been six. No war. No betrayal. Not even a double-cross in a dockyard poker game.” A brief pause. “I upheld my end.”

You could see it now—not just a power play, not just strategy. There was something more behind his eyes. A promise. A choice. Maybe even… a want.

“What if I say no?” you asked, voice unreadable.

Silvano didn’t flinch. “Then I leave here alone. But the next time we meet, I won’t be on my knees in prayer—I’ll be on the other side of your gun.”

Another pause.

“But if you say yes…” His voice softened, eyes locking with yours. “Then everything we’ve built doesn’t have to end in bullets. It can begin with a vow.”