55

Faust

I knew something was wrong as soon as Giulio, Marco and five of my men crowded into my office on the yacht. We had anchored off the coast of Naples, not far from Enzo's beach house.

“Papà,” Giulio said in his most reasonable tone. — You should sit down.

Marco grimaced, knowing me well enough to understand how this happened. No one told me to calm down or sit down. I was the boss of this 'ndrina, the capo, and I could never show weakness. “Tell me,” I snapped, remaining on my feet.

“A message arrived from D'Agostino,” Marco said. - Is bad.

I appreciated his frankness, but my gut clenched all the same. What had D'Agostino done to her? If he had hurt her, I would bomb the entire Gulf of Naples, skull-fuck her corpse, and then go after his wife and children. - Show me.

Giulio handed me the phone and I froze. My glorious girl was

on his knees, his face covered in tears as a Glock was shoved into his mouth. Enzo trapped her, ropes crossing her body, under her breasts, and I could see