Giovanni Moretti
She mumbled something unintelligible, her head lolling against my chest. Then, suddenly, her body tensed. "He'll come for me," she whispered, her voice taking on an edge of fear I hadn't heard before. "I know he will. You'll regret ever touching me."
My blood ran cold as I realised she was no longer with me, but lost in some nightmare born of her captivity. The determination in her voice, even as she dreamed, stirred something primal within me – pride, protectiveness, and a burning rage at those who had dared to harm her.
"Alessia," I murmured, cradling her closer. "I'm here. You're safe now."
But she was too far gone, trapped in a world of shadows and threats, unaware that her ordeal was over. As I held her, I vowed silently that Bianchi and his associates would pay d
