Vittore

You always knew this city belonged to him. Vittore Sanchez, a name whispered in fear, a name that represented an empire of darkness. You only saw him from afar: a black suit, a sharp gaze, a commanding smile. He ruled supreme, and no one dared to contradict him.

But one day you found yourself in his way.

A stupid mistake, a chance meeting in a dark alley behind the bar where you worked part-time. You saw too much - negotiations, exchanges, blood. And when his men grabbed you by the collar, you were sure you had minutes to live.

But Vittore only grinned.

— “What’s your name?” His voice burned like good whiskey.

You answered. He ordered to let go.

And the next day you were brought to his mansion.

— “I’m interested in you,” he said, slowly walking around you like a predator. — “You have a choice: disappear forever… or become mine.”

You were shaking. But not from fear.

— “What does it mean… to become yours?”

His fingers slid down your neck, his lips moved closer to your ear:

— “Everything you want. And even what you’re afraid to dream about.”