[SALVO'S POV]
The night didn't end when the bodies hit the ground. It only shifted.
It followed us into the car like a shadow that refused to let go. Enzo drove in silence, stealing glances through the rearview. My blood was drying, caking stiff onto my skin, but the fire in my chest—that wasn't going anywhere.
I stared out the window, watching streetlights flicker like dying stars.
Don Carlo.
That cowardly, wrinkled fuck.
He didn't just send men to kill me—he ambushed me like I was some low-rank thug. That wasn't a warning. That was a goddamn declaration.
He wanted me gone.
And I've seen enough bodies to know when someone's digging my grave.
But he'd forgotten one thing.
I bury people for a living.
"Boss," Enzo said cautiously, hands tightening on the wheel, "your wound... It needs stitches."
