The countdown never left the screen.
Three days.
It followed Aruna everywhere. In reflections. In silence. In the way people suddenly watched her with a mix of fear and fascination.
The bride of the Mafia King.
She stood in the private briefing room as Dante’s men filled the space, their expressions sharp and disciplined.
“This is no longer a private war,” Dante said calmly. “Adrian has made it public.”
A map lit up behind him.
Safe houses. Red zones. Enemy territory.
Aruna watched quietly.
Listening.
Learning.
“Your mother has been moved again,” one of the men reported.
Aruna’s fingers tightened.
“Where?” she asked.
The room went silent.
Dante answered for them.
“Unknown location,” he said. “That’s intentional.”
Anger burned through her chest.
“He wants me blind,” she sa
