Forty two

*TWO NIGHTS LATER*

The night air was heavy with tension as Santo stood in the courtyard of his sprawling mansion, the cold marble beneath his feet a stark contrast to the burning conflict within his heart. The moon cast a ghostly glow over the scene, illuminating Aldo, Rico and the guards, who watched with a mix of trepidation and resignation. Santo’s hand tightened around the grip of the pistol, the weight of the weapon a physical manifestation of the burden he bore.

Meanwhile, somewhere up in the mansion, laying on the bed, was sunny, her hand grabbing her chest as she sobbed. She couldn’t stop this and it made her hear ache. It was a pain like no other

Rosa knelt before him, her once vibrant eyes now dulled by the inevitability of her fate. The same eyes that used to sparkle with mischief when they were children, running through the vineyards, causing mischief, all the teases and constant pranks. Those memories haunted Santo now, each one a knife twisting