The room was suffocatingly silent. Leonardo hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. The only sign that he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest.But Amara could feel the shift in him. Something inside him had snapped. Matteo’s younger brother—Enzo—was kneeling in that grainy video, his face bloody, his hands tied behind his back. His breaths were ragged, shallow. And then, Dante’s voice filled the room again. "Now, Leonardo,” he murmured. “I know you don’t care about most people. But Matteo? He’s been loyal to you for years. I imagine his baby brother is SOMEWHAT valuable.” Leonardo finally moved. He reached for the phone and lifted it closer to his face, his grip so tight Amara thought he might crush it. Dante sighed dramatically. “But here’s the thing—I don’t have much patience. So, let’s make this simple.” A figure stepped into the frame, masked, holding a knife. Amara’s stomach clenched. "Three hours, Leonardo," Dante continued. "Meet me, alone, at
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