Chapter 64

• ARMANDO
• The ride back to the mansion was silent, but my head wasn’t. I couldn’t shake the image of Enzo’s face—cold and lifeless—in that bag. It played on a loop in my mind, every detail—the stiffness of his features, the unnatural stillness—etching deeper with each passing second. It wasn’t just grief that gripped me. It was anger—burning, unrelenting anger.
• I sat in the back seat, staring out at the rain-dotted windows with my jaw clenched so tightly that it ached a bit. The thirst for revenge was clawing at me—demanding I act, but I couldn’t afford to be reckless just yet. The police sniffing around my operations was something I just couldn’t afford at the moment.