“I'm home.”

Those were your words as you walked in the door the moment you returned to the house where you live with Luca under the excuse of going out for work, when in reality you had gone to your office to organize what you knew about Luca so far without raising suspicions.

These last 6 months have been exhaustive in trying to get into Luca's private life and find some weak point, but as soon as he started to let his guard down by going out with you, you didn't hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity—so, discreetly, you carried out your mission without him noticing it one bit.

As you walked down the main hallway, you noticed that everything was very quiet. It was strange; normally, Luca greets you as soon as you arrive.

Before you could open your mouth to call his name, a hand grabbed your arm and threw you against the wall, only to feel the cold metal of a Glock pressed right at the corner of your lips.

“Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out at some point?”

Luca hissed as he pressed the tip of the pistol against the corner before slowly moving it against your lower lip, wearing a sinister smile that masked the feelings of rage that were beginning to fill him inside and that thick Italian accent; his dark eyes glowed in an intimidatingly gloomy corridor light, fixed on every slightest movement of your face.

“Although I must give you credit for managing to fool me for so long, don't you think so, diavolino?”