The car rumbled through the French countryside, its headlights slicing through the midnight fog like dull blades. Santino sat rigid in the back seat, the package trembling faintly in his lap. That ticking steady, relentless gnawed at his nerves. His fingers traced its edges, feeling the coarse brown paper and the subtle vibration beneath."How much longer?" Santino asked, eyes fixed on the driver's reflection.The driver's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, then away. "Twenty minutes. Maybe less."Silence fell between them again, heavy as a burial shroud. Santino's mind raced, replaying El Amore's cryptic words from earlier that day: "This package represents opportunity or destruction. Which it becomes depends entirely on you, Santino."A bomb? A tracker? Something worse? His jaw tightened. Trust no one—that rule had kept him alive in Naples, and it would here too.Rain began to tap against the windows, transforming the French countryside into a watery blur. The package's ticking s

Blood pooled beneath the courier's body. The metallic smell mixed with the warehouse's damp air. Santino kept his face blank, but his heart pounded. El Amore's shot had been perfect, a message written in blood. The old man tucked the pistol into his jacket. His face showed nothing as Mia stood beside him in her black suit. Her eyes never left Santino's face."You refused my order," El Amore said, voice low and rough. "Yet you still stand here."Santino met his gaze directly. "Killing him was wasteful. I offered a better way.""Wasteful?" El Amore chuckled. The sound was dry like autumn leaves. "Loyalty isn't about being efficient, Santino Leandro. It's about proving you belong to me." He stepped closer. The light from the warehouse caught his sharp eyes. "But your boldness... it interests me. Maybe you're more than just your father's shadow."Santino said nothing. The silence stretched between them. Salvatore shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable."Well?" Salvatore pressed. "Wha

Santino walked the streets of Barcelona for hours. The ring burned in his pocket. The bearded man had given it to him. Said it was his by right.His father's ring. His father died in Naples .His father who he had learnt had worked for El Amore. The city blurred around him as Cars honked. People shouted but he heard none of it.His phone rang. Salvatore's name flashed on the screen. "Where are you?" Salvatore asked."Walking.""The meeting finished hours ago. How did it go?"Santino stopped in front of a fountain as Water splashed against the stone. "Fine.""Fine? That's it?""They'll work with us.""Good." Salvatore paused. "You sound strange. What happened?" Santino touched the ring through his pocket. "Nothing.""Santino.""I said nothing.""Meet me at the hotel. We need to talk." The line went dead.Santino stared at the phone. Then at the fountain. An old man sat on a bench nearby. He fed pigeons from a paper bag."Excuse me," Santino said. The old man looked up. His eyes were cl

Santino woke to silence. The hotel room felt like a tomb.He checked his watch. 3 PM. Five hours until the meeting with El Amore.His phone showed twelve missed calls. All from the same number. He didn't recognize it.He showered. Putting on his best suit. Black and Clean. Ready for whatever came next.The hotel lobby was busy. Families checking out. Businessmen reading newspapers. Normal people living normal lives.Santino envied them.He walked to the front desk. The clerk smiled. "Checking out, sir?""Yes.” Santino handed over his key card."I hope you enjoyed your stay”"It was memorable." The clerk's smile faltered due to Something in Santino's tone. Outside, the afternoon sun was warm as Santino walked to his car. A black Mercedes was parked beside it.A man in a gray suit leaned against the Mercedes. Tall with Dark hair."You're early," the man said.Santino recognized the voice. The man from the phone. The watcher."Who are you?""Call me Antonio." The man said as he pushed him

The prison looked more like a bunker than a building. Gray walls. Electric fences. Sharp wires curling like claws toward the sky.Santino parked the car and turned off the engine. Beside him, Mia sat still, hands folded in her lap. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.“I already did.”“You’re quiet.” She said as he looked up at the gates.“So are you.”They walked in together. No words. Just the sound of their shoes on the pavement and the wind scraping through metal.Inside, the air smelled like bleach. A guard scanned their IDs without a smile. “Maria Leandro?” he asked.“Her son,” Mia answered. The man blinked. “She hasn’t had a visitor in twenty years.”Santino said nothing as they led him through security. Metal detectors. Wand checks. Long corridors with peeling paint and flickering lights.They reached the visitation room with a glass partition, plastic chairs, and a phone on each side. The guard motioned to the seat. “She’ll be out shortly.”Mia stayed back near the wall, f