The morning sun barely peeked through the heavy curtains in the Moretti estate's living room. The television screen flickered, illuminating the grim faces of Valerio, Dante, and their fathers. The atmosphere was thick — tense and suffocating. None of them spoke, their focus fixed on the breaking news broadcast.
"In yet another brutal attack that has shaken the city's underworld, two men were found dead late last night near the docks. Both victims, known for their criminal affiliations, were discovered with identical wounds — knives lodged directly into their hearts and one victim bearing a second stab wound to the throat. Authorities have confirmed that the signature weapon left behind bears the distinct engraving of the letter 'V,' the notorious mark of the elusive assassin, Vesper."
The news anchor's voice carried a weight of dread.
"Sources suggest that both victims had ties to underground dealings with the Russo family, raising questions about whether this attack was linked to ongoing mafia disputes. Officials have yet to release further details, but the message left behind was clear — Vesper has struck again."
The broadcast cut to footage of the crime scene — flashing lights, officers cordoning off the area, and two blood-soaked bodies covered in sheets.
Dante leaned back on the couch, arms crossed tightly across his chest. "That bloody bastard!," he muttered, breaking the heavy silence.
Valerio's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. "Two in one night… whoever paid him must've had a damn good reason."
Mr. Russo, usually calm, shook his head grimly. "That's not just a message — it's a warning." His gaze shifted to Valerio's father, who stood silently, his fingers pressed tightly together as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind.
"They were thieves," Valerio's father finally spoke, his voice low and firm. "Both of them worked under one of our associates… occasionally did business with us, but nothing big enough to put a target on their backs." He paused. "Unless they crossed someone powerful enough to hire Vesper."
Dante scoffed bitterly. "That doesn't exactly narrow it down."
For a moment, no one spoke. The air hung heavy, the brutal image of those two bodies still lingering in their minds.
Valerio exhaled sharply, muttering, "If Vesper's still in the city… this isn't over."
At the Bar
The evening air buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses, yet Leona barely registered it. Leona's hands moved on autopilot—wiping down the counter, stacking glasses, and sliding drinks across the bar with effortless precision. Her thoughts were tangled elsewhere.
Another death… no, two this time. The morning's grim news replayed in her mind — Vesper had struck again, leaving behind his signature blade like a twisted calling card. She swallowed hard. The killer was relentless, and it seemed no one was safe.
"Leona?" A co-worker nudged her, snapping her out of her daze.
"Hmm?" She blinked, forcing a smile as she grabbed a tray of empty glasses. "Sorry, I spaced out."
She moved to the end of the bar, weaving between tables. The air seemed heavier tonight, like everyone could feel the tension that lingered in the city's shadows. As she placed the glasses down, the door creaked open, and a new presence caught her attention.
The man who walked in wasn't like the usual crowd. He was tall and wiry, with sharp features and a faded leather jacket that clung to him like a second skin. His face was roughened with a thin scar that cut from his brow to his cheekbone. His gaze swept the bar once before he settled into a shadowy corner booth.
"Who's that?" one of the waiters murmured beside her, following her gaze.
"No idea," Leona muttered. But something about him felt… off.
The man's eyes never wandered like a typical customer's. He wasn't watching the dancers, nor did he show any interest in the drinks. Instead, his focus shifted — lingering on the staff, scanning the crowd like he was studying faces.
Is he looking for someone?
Leona shook her head, trying to brush off her unease. But as the minutes passed, she couldn't shake the feeling that this man wasn't just passing through — and for some reason, she felt like she was the one being watched.
The night air was colder than usual as Leona walked back to her apartment, her steps quickening despite nothing feeling particularly dangerous. The streets were dimly lit, shadows stretching long against the pavement, yet her unease came from something else — something she couldn't quite place.
Get a grip, she scolded herself. But her fingers clenched tighter around her bag.
That man — the one who lingered a little too long at the bar — had unsettled her. He never approached, never spoke, yet she could feel his gaze from across the room. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was just tired.
Reaching her apartment door, she locked it twice out of habit and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. Her head throbbed — not from exhaustion, but from the relentless thoughts swirling in her mind.
I should've stayed at the Moretti estate… The thought came uninvited, surprising her. She scoffed at herself. What's wrong with you?
But she knew.
Despite his frustrating arrogance, Valerio had made her feel… safe. His presence — infuriating as it was — had become something she unconsciously relied on. Without him hovering nearby, the world suddenly felt colder, quieter… emptier.
She sank onto her couch, hugging a cushion to her chest. Why am I missing him now?
His sharp remarks, his overbearing protectiveness, his stupid way of acting like she was incapable of surviving without him — all of it had driven her insane. But somehow… it had become familiar.
And maybe… just maybe… that familiarity had felt comforting in a way she hadn't realized until now.
Leona sat in the dimly lit room, the faint glow from the streetlights seeping through her window. The cushion in her arms felt like her only anchor as her thoughts spiraled.
Maybe this is what you wanted, she told herself. You kept pushing him away — rejecting him every time he tried to get close.
Her fingers twisted the fabric of her cushion, her chest tightening. Was that why Valerio hadn't come by? Had she finally made him give up?
You told him no, Leona. What did you expect? That he'd keep chasing after you like some fool?
She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the ache in her stomach. Maybe he got tired of her constant refusals — her mixed signals. He'd offered comfort, protection, even affection — and she'd turned it all down. Again and again.
But I had to, she reasoned. Getting close to someone like him — like anyone — felt dangerous. Not just because of who Valerio was, but because of who she was.
Her gaze shifted to the faint scar on her arm — a reminder of the life she had carefully hidden. The life Valerio had no idea about.
He's better off without you anyway… right?
The thought should've brought her comfort, yet it left her feeling hollow.
Soon, a week flew by...
The bar was unusually busy that evening, yet Leona barely noticed the chaos. Orders flew in, glasses clinked, and voices merged into an overwhelming hum — but her mind was elsewhere. She moved through the motions mechanically, pouring drinks and flashing quick smiles without really seeing anyone.
It had been days. Where the hell is he?
Valerio hadn't shown up since their argument, and despite her stubborn resolve, she couldn't stop thinking about him. The way he'd looked at her — frustration barely masking something deeper. His absence gnawed at her, making her chest feel tight.
"Leona!" her coworker barked, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Table four's waiting!"
"Right, sorry," she mumbled, grabbing a tray of drinks and weaving through the crowd.
She barely dodged a drunk who stumbled into her path. Focus, she scolded herself. You wanted space. Well, now you have it.
Yet no matter how hard she tried to push him from her mind, the nagging feeling remained. Something about his absence didn't sit right. Valerio wasn't one to just disappear — especially not when he had a habit of barging into her life, whether she liked it or not.
Lost in thought, she nearly overfilled a glass of whiskey, cursing under her breath as liquid spilled over her fingers. Wiping her hand on her apron, she glanced toward the door — half expecting to see him there.
But he wasn't. Just strangers, noisy regulars, and a few unfamiliar faces.
You're being ridiculous, she told herself. He's probably busy.
Still, she couldn't shake the unease that lingered — like something was just… off.
Later
Leona paced back and forth in her small apartment, her fingers twitching at her sides. The silence was unbearable — the kind that pressed down on her chest and refused to leave. She sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair.
Why am I even thinking about this? She asked herself. But no matter how much she tried to fight it, the weight of Valerio's absence gnawed at her.
Grabbing her keys, she muttered under her breath, "Screw it."
The cab ride felt longer than usual, every streetlight flickering by like a reminder that she could still turn back. But she didn't. She needed to know if he was okay — if they were okay.
When the Moretti estate finally came into view, her stomach tightened. The towering gates and stone walls seemed more intimidating than usual, but she forced her nerves down.
The guards recognized her immediately, one giving a slight nod before stepping aside. "They're all inside," he informed her.
Good, she thought. At least I won't look completely pathetic standing at the door alone.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. The warmth of the estate hit her first — a strange contrast to the cold tension she'd been feeling all week. Voices echoed faintly from the dining room, a mixture of laughter and conversation.
For a second, she froze. What if he doesn't even want to see me?
But before she could second-guess herself again, Valerio's voice rumbled from the inside — calm, steady, familiar. The sound was enough to make her feet move again.
The guards exchanged a quick look as Leona approached, her determined stride leaving no room for argument. One of them stepped aside without a word, muttering to the other, "If we stop her, Valerio's going to lose it." The second guard simply nodded, watching as Leona walked past the gates like she belonged there.
Meanwhile Valerio in his study
Valerio sat in his dimly lit study, a glass of whiskey untouched on the table beside him. The silence of the room felt suffocating, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave. His mind kept drifting back to her — to Leona.
He remembered the way she'd stormed out last time, frustration evident in her voice. She needed space — she'd made that clear. So, he'd given it to her. But the distance gnawed at him far more than he'd expected.
Her laugh, her stubbornness, even her ridiculous tantrums about salads — they'd all become a part of his days. Now, without her, the house felt colder.
Maybe she's better off away from me, he told himself, but the thought only made the ache in his chest worse.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. His heart and his head were at war — one begging him to go after her, the other warning him to let her go.
Valerio leaned back in his chair, eyes closing. I miss you, Leona… more than I should.