Lorenzo let a wicked smile curl at the corner of his lips. His hands, stained with dried blood, moved with calculated calmness as he pulled off his gloves slowly, finger by finger. He stepped out of the car once more, as though her arrival was merely an afterthought.
Alessandra sauntered forward like she owned the ground she walked on, her heels clicking with deliberate elegance. She stopped a few feet away from him, her eyes scanning the bloodied men, the broken Enzo who now lay unconscious nearby, and the smoldering remains of the warehouse behind them.
"You went too far this time, Lorenzo," she said, her voice silky but laced with venom. "You beat Enzo like a rabid dog. You burned everything. You made him bankrupt. For what? For that little toy of yours—Silver?"
Lorenzo said nothing. His smirk deepened, but his eyes were ice cold.
