But then reality hit him like a truck.
This was the dangerous world of the mafia.
Here, power harassment wasn't an exception; it was practically the rule.
His sensibilities as a former office worker were utterly irrelevant.
What a cruel, unforgiving world this is, Rocco thought dejectedly.
All he wanted was to live a simple life.
Having unremarkable childhood, grow up to work at a respectable company, pay his taxes diligently, and retire peacefully in a nice nursing home with the savings he'd worked hard to accumulate.
Was that too much to ask?
Lost in his spiral of self-pity and nostalgic thoughts of his past life, Rocco didn't notice Sylas's patience wearing dangerously thin.
His brother's expression twisted into a scowl, frustration written all over his face.
"...Hey. Did you not hear me?" Sylas growled, his voice low and menacing. "Hand over that mutt. Or… are you protecting it because you know what it really is?"
