Luciano Mancini strode in wearing an impeccable black suit, every inch of him screaming power and danger, looking like a man carved by God himself. His charm usually stole every eye in the room—but this time it was the gun and dagger in his hands that commanded all the attention. His men stormed in right behind him, hunting the wounded bastard who was trying to crawl away from them.
The man dove behind a counter, knocking over shelves as he went. The whole store erupted into chaos—people screaming, running, knocking into each other—but the entrance was already blocked by the Italian don and his men as they spread out fast, sealing every exit.
“Shut the f**k up!” one of them roared.
“Keep your f*****g mouths shut,” another snarled, raising his gun. “Make one f*****g sound, and you’ll be
