Fabrizio’s POV
The night is darker than usual as I step out of the car, the cold air biting at my skin. The warehouse stands before me, a hulking structure of metal and shadow. It’s far enough from the city that no one will hear the screams, and tonight, there will be plenty.
Rocco is already waiting by the entrance, his face as hard and expressionless as always. He gives me a nod as I approach, and I don’t need to ask for an update. I know why I’m here. Some things require the boss to step in—things that need to be handled personally.
Inside, the air is thick with the stench of sweat and blood. The walls of the warehouse are cold and damp, the concrete floor stained with things that can never be washed away. It’s a familiar place, one I’ve been to more times than I care to count. But
