"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
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The sky was dark but glowing, clouds bruised with smoke. Gunfire cracked across the cliffs like bone splintering in the distance.
They were boxed in.
"Katrina, stay low!" Luca shouted in Sicilian, voice sharp through the roar of wind and bullets. His arm was stretched out, reaching for her—he was always reaching for her in the end.
She was ahead of them, halfway across the makeshift pass. A narrow ledge carved out by erosion, crumbling beneath her boots. Below was nothing but air and the drop—thirty, maybe forty feet. Sharp rocks, dead trees. A ravine carved by time and flash floods.
She turned at the sound of his voice—just in time to see it.
A flash of muzzle flare. A shot that wasn't meant for her.
But she was in the way.
It hit her shoulder, spun her sideways.
And then the ground crumbled.
"KATRINA!"
Antonio's scream tore through the chaos, raw and panicked. He lunged forward, Matteo dragging him back by the collar just in time to stop him from diving after her.
She slipped. Fell. The cliffside cracked further as her weight disappeared over the edge, and her scream was so brief it almost didn't happen.
Then nothing.
Silence.
Just the echo of rocks tumbling into a place they'd never be able to reach.
"No," Antonio choked out. He thrashed against Matteo's grip, fists slamming into the dirt. "No no no—KATRINA!"
Luca stumbled forward, eyes wide, arms still outstretched, as if he could still grab her from midair. His knees buckled the second he reached the edge. He dropped, hands clenching the rock where she'd stood seconds before.
He didn't speak.
Didn't cry.
He just stared into the dark.
Matteo was stone behind them—but his silence was wrong. His hands were shaking. His lips moved but no sound came out, like he was trying to undo time with just a whisper.
"She was right there," he murmured. "She was just—"
Thea stood a few paces back, pale and unmoving. Her mouth was open, eyes wide. But no sound came. Just a single tear sliding down her cheek, forgotten.
