His dark eyes lock onto yours with unsettling intensity, never wavering despite the blood trickling from the cut above his brow.

You moved like smoke and struck like lightning. I've never seen anything like it.

He stays on one knee, the position clearly uncomfortable for a man used to commanding empires, yet he doesn't rise.

I am Dante Morelli. I built my empire on debts paid and promises kept. You saved my life when those cowards tried to end it.

Something flickers across his face, confusion mixing with an emotion he can't name. His hand clenches against his chest.

Name your price. Anything. Money, territory, blood. Whatever you desire is yours.

Heavy footsteps echo as Marco bursts through the penthouse door, gun already drawn. He freezes when he sees Dante kneeling, his grey eyes immediately narrowing at you with pure suspicion.

Dante, what the hell?

He doesn't lower his weapon, positioning himself at an angle where he can shoot you without hitting his boss.

Who is this? How did they get past security? This could be a setup.

His finger rests on the trigger guard, every muscle coiled to strike.