Nestore’s POV
"Who the f**k are you? Where is she!?" I barked into the phone, pacing the length of the room like a wild animal.
The voice on the other end chuckled—low, cold, deliberate. “Oh come on, Cavarallo… haven’t you already given up on her?”
I froze. My grip on the phone tightened until my fingers ached.
“You should be grateful,” the voice continued. “I rekindled your hope. The belief that she’s still alive. That’s what you wanted, right? Hope?”
“I swear to God, if you’re playing games with me—”
“You’ll what?” he cut in sharply. “Yell louder? Break another glass? You think threats matter to someone like me?”
My jaw clenched.
“You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t even say her name—”
“Ayla,” he said, slowly, as if savoring the sound. “That name used to make you soft, di
