Two weeks had passed since Sofia’s kidnapping — fourteen agonizing days that felt like an eternity carved out of hell itself.
The Virelli estate had become a pressure cooker of fear, frustration, and barely contained violence. The war room, once a hub of calculated strategy, now resembled a tomb of broken hopes. Empty whiskey bottles lined the edges of the table. Cigarette butts filled ashtrays. The air was thick with despair, the sharp scent of alcohol, and the tension of men who no longer knew how to speak without triggering an explosion.
Luca was barely recognizable — and even more dangerous than before.
He had lost nearly fifteen pounds, his once powerful frame now gaunt beneath his rumpled black shirt. Dark stubble covered his jaw, unkempt and rough. His eyes — those sharp, command
