LOGINNobody's POVAnd then…Antonioni ended him with one hit. “Son of a bitch!”Just like that. Lorenzo fell still and finally closed his eyelids.As if to be sure he'd died well, Antonioni felt his hands tighten around Lorenzo’s neck. Enough. No more words. No more mercy. He stood, staggering backward and wiping off Lorenzo's blood on his clothes.Lorenzo struggled for a while and then… gave up the ghost. His blood pooling, his eyes wide in disbelief.The Naples villa, once Lorenzo’s domain, was silent but for Antonioni’s fast breathing and the scattered moans of the fallen.****Around them, the rest of Lorenzo's men have already been killed. Meanwhile, the rest of Antonioni’s men were down…some on their knees, some barely standing, breathing hard. It was close. Too close.“Help them up…,” he ordered, pantin
Nobody's POVAntonioni’s jaw ached from clenching. Enough. Enough. He swore it under his breath. Lorenzo had gone too far. Not just for him. For Milo. For the thirty-three lost in the Park. For all the blood Lorenzo had spilled.He didn’t hesitate. Not this time.Darie waited in the dim corner of the abandoned warehouse, shadowed by the cold Spanish night.Antonioni approached him, eyes burning with a fury that could scorch stone.“I need you,” Antonioni said without preamble.Darie’s gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. “You don’t need me. You’ve done it all before.”Antonioni stepped closer, voice low, deliberate. “I do this for more than for me now. You know the cost Lorenzo has made us pay. You know what’s coming if I go alone.”Darie’s expression softened slightly. “And what is it you’re as
Antonioni’s POVWe left before sunrise. No noise. No distractions. Just able-bodied men from the Marina Park. Men who understood the urgency and what was at stake.I checked my weapon, sliding it into place. “Everyone geared?” I asked.“Fully armed,” Bukky replied. “One-fifty men. All armored.”“Good.”Matteo stepped forward. “We hit fast. No delays. I don't think they're expecting us.”I nodded once. “No delays. I don't think so either.”From the side, Milo adjusted his vest. “After this… I’ll finally settle things properly,” he said.I glanced at him briefly. “With Elira?”He smiled. Not wide. Just enough. “Yeah.”I held his gaze for a second. “Then don’t die,” I said, honestly wondering how a man would be thinking about a woman in the face of war.
Annabelle’s POVMy wrists burned against the ropes that bound me to the chair, but I refused to let it show in my posture.Even like this, even stripped of freedom, I would not give Lorenzo the satisfaction of fear.He paced slowly across the room, his polished shoes tapping against the marble floor, while Scales and a few others lingered in the background, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Look at her,” Lorenzo sneered. “Still defiant, even like a rat in a cage. I love that.”I refused to respond. No words, no whimper, no tremor. My lips pressed into a line. He could have all the arrogance he wanted; I wouldn’t give him anything more.Then, as if to crown his triumph, a phone buzzed on the table. Lorenzo answered, his face lighting up with wicked glee.“…Yes. About Marina Park? Of course, I did that. Thanks to Youssef.” He laughed shar
Antonioni’s POVI was in my private lounge, seated, the mailer's letter in my hands, when I saw Diego’s neat, familiar handwriting. The mailer had said I had mail. I was curious because I barely get any mail. Especially, obecauseone can now easily send messages anytime, just with the communication devices.In his letter, Diego confessed he couldn’t bring himself to say it to me directly. That he was leaving Shadows to form his own gang.I read on. He admitted he didn’t know how I would react, that’s why he couldn’t say it face-to-face. That he felt there was something more to his purpose than serving forever, which is why he was seceding.Then, the part that made me smirk despite myself: he begged that we could still remain in touch, that we could be great business partners. The boy had been disrespectful recently…and now he comes with this?This is the letter in fu
Antonioni’s POVI didn’t expect to find Milo like that. Curled slightly forward, shoulders shaking, head buried in his hands like something inside him had broken loose.For a split second, my instincts sharpened.Danger. Loss. Bad news. “Milo?” I called, my voice already tightening.He didn’t answer. Bukky moved faster than meIhis time, stepping closer, crouching slightly. “Guy… what happened?” he asked, cautious, almost bracing.Milo dragged his hands down his face, exhaling hard. Then he laughed. A broken, breathless laugh. “I—” he started, then stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t even know how to say it…”I frowned. This wasn’t how men reacted to loss. This was something else. “Milo,” I said again, firmer this time.He looked up. And I saw it. Tears. Actual tears siare tting in his eyes. Not from pain. Not from grief. But something deeper. Something
Antonioni’s POVThe corridor smelled of disinfectant and cold metal.I had become friends with that smell, intimately. How it clings to the stone walls needs to be studied. How it lingered even when the lights dimmed, how it reminded men of where they stood in the hierarchy of freedom, all need a
Annabelle’s POVThe sound of gunfire didn’t frighten me. At least not anymore.That was the first thing I noticed.It echoed loudly across the open field, sharp, controlled, consistent, and instead of flinching, something inside me aligned. Like a memory waking up. Like my body already knew what to
Lorenzo’s POVI watched her adjust herself on the bed, hips shifting just slightly, her perfume mingling with the heavy scent of the room.Marta. Always Marta. A woman Antonioni banged for ten years. Every time I banged her,
Antonioni’s POVThe cell door closed with a sound that did not echo.That was what unsettled me.In Fort San Vittorio Detention Complex, echoes were constant…metal against metal, boots against concrete, the low hum of surveillance breathing through







