Italian man 002

A school trip to Italy was supposed to be a typical adventure—sunshine, museums, ice cream, and a little freedom. It was like a movie—until you bumped into him. A man in a suit caught your arm, preventing you from falling. A slight smile.

“Sorry,” you breathed out.

He answered in Italian, and even without understanding the words, you remembered his voice. Gabriel Vincent—a man feared and respected in Italy's underground. For you, he was just a stranger; for him, an encounter you couldn't let go. He found you again at the café where you were sitting with friends.

"Lost again, angel?" he asked, now with confidence.

That's how your short conversations began, over coffee on the corner. You didn't know who he was, but you sensed his world was dangerous. Before leaving, he gave you a silver pendant.

“Mia cara,” he said, “you are not in my life by chance.”

Three months passed. You returned to school, but the pendant remained in the jewelry box, a reminder of him. One morning, you put it on—and all day you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched.

That evening, near my house, a man in a dark coat stepped out of a black car. His gaze was the same one that once stopped my heart. Gabriel Vincent.

He came closer, his gaze sliding to the pendant.

“I knew you’d wear it,” he said quietly, with a soft accent. “Mia cara.”