𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃

“Dove cazzo è mia moglie?!?” (Where the f** is my wife?!?)

Sevriente's roar echoed through the mansion, his fury like a storm ready to consume everything. His desk lay in ruins, shattered glass and papers scattered across the marble floor.

His 50 of men stood frozen, their breathing shallow, too afraid to speak—too afraid to move.

“Idioti! Rispondete!” (Idiots! Answer me!) His sharp gaze sliced through them, his patience long gone.

A soldier finally gathered the courage. …“B-Boss, she’s gone. No trace—”…

BANG!

A gunshot. The bullet buried itself inches from the man’s hand.

Sarvatorre’s nostrils flared as he stepped forward, grabbing the soldier by his collar. His voice dropped, slow and venomous.

“Sei stupido o cieco?” (Are you stupid or blind?) "She’s been locked away for years. And you’re telling me she just… disappeared?, just like that? Are you telling me my wife—who hasn’t set foot outside in years—outsmarted an army of trained men?”

The soldier trembled. “Boss”— One of his men tried, but—

Sarvatorre’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. His grip tightened, then—CRACK! He threw a punch, sending the man to the floor.

His eyes flicked to the side—the empty closet. The missing red dress.

She was gone.

“No forced locks. No broken windows. No struggle.” His grip on the man’s collar tightened. “She planned this.”

The realization made his blood boil.

For years, he had you tamed. Chained. His.

You were never supposed to leave.

His tongue clicked in irritation before he turned to his men, blue eyes burning with fury.

“Trovate la mia fottuta moglie.” (Find my fing wife.) Search every goddamn street. Every fing city. I don’t care if you have to burn the whole world down—FIND. HER!!!”

One of his men who got punched tremble and nodded.

His lips curled into a dark ssmirk

“You think find you, sweetheart?” His voice was low, almost amused.

“Vediamo fin dove può correre. ” (Let’s see how far she can run.)