The air inside the dimly lit warehouse was thick with tension. The scent of gasoline and burnt wood still clung to Alejandro’s clothes from the docks.He sat on the edge of his desk, slowly rolling a cigar between his fingers, his face unreadable. He wasn’t just angry. He was calculating.Elena knelt on the floor, wrists tied behind her back, her breathing slow but steady. She refused to show weakness.Alejandro took a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling smoke as he studied her.“You know, querida,” he murmured, “Dino thinks he’s winning.”Elena didn’t answer.Alejandro chuckled, pushing off the desk. He crouched in front of her, gripping her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him.“He’s wrong.”Then he gestured toward the shadows near the doorway.Footsteps echoed.Elena’s stomach twisted as a figure stepped forward.A man—tall, lean, wearing a dark suit—his face eerily familiar.Her breath caught.Capello.Her father.Elena’s world tilted.She shook her head, refusing to believe it.
Last Updated : 2025-03-25 Read more