{ Enzo }
The roar of the engine had barely died down when the phone buzzed in my pocket. I smirked. "They finally found you princess" I smirked picking it up.
" Final—" before I could finish a scared trembling voice came from the other line.
" S-Sir she went to the factory we were instructed to bomb..."
His words echoed in my head and my gut twisted.
"Well?!" I asked trying to keep my voice steady. " You didn't bomb i—"
" Unfortunately sir we found out too late, uh um uh um uh w-would you like us t-to send y-you her remains ?"
I swallowed hard. " Are you sure they're hers ? Are you sure she's gone?" My voice came out desperate.
" Sir there was no one in the factory when we bombed it but we did see her scarf on the ground and found a a burnt body." Came his shaky voice from the other side.
I stared at the phone like it had lied to me. "You found her scarf," I said slowly, tasting the words. "You found a body." My voice was too calm.
The man stammered. "Y-yes, sir. Burnt… We— we can bring—"
"Bring me everything," I cut him off. "Scarf. Body. Proof. Bring them to the house. Now." The order landed like a stone. "And bring every man who was with you. All of them."
The line went dead. I didn't wait. I started the car, slammed it into gear, and drove without thinking about speed or lights. The city was a smear of neon and rain. Every red light felt personal, every shadow a memory of her laugh, her limp, the way she hid. I drove like a man trying to outrun his blood.
Halfway home I called names. "Marco. Luca. All of you — meet me at the main gate. Bring what you have." My voice was flat; there was no pleading in it. Only command. Only consequence.
By the time the gates came into view my hands were raw from gripping the wheel. I killed the engine and stepped out, coat clinging to me, smoke curling from my cigarette. The men were already there — a line of faces, pale in the gate light, restless and careful. They had the look of men who'd been taught to hope and fear in equal measure.
I walked down the path slow enough for every one of them to feel the weight of my step. I stopped in front of the man who'd answered the call — the one who should have remembered to ask, who should have thought before following orders with blind feet.
"Walk me through it," I said, voice soft enough that it made them lean in. "Start to finish. Tell me what you saw."
He spoke and his words tumbled out like a confession. I listened to every stammer. I let silence do the work between his sentences. Silence is a blade that leaves room to think of worse things.
"You had an order," I said finally. "One job. One clean job." I took his jacket off slowly, one movement, surgical. He flinched but didn't stop me. I yanked his ring and threw it into the grass. It landed with a small, meaningless clink.
"Family rules," I said, loud enough so the others heard. "You failed the family. You failed me." The way I said it left no room for bargaining. "You'll bring me what I asked, and all of you will stand here and tell me why you executed my orders without asking who would be hurt."
The man's nod was frantic. "Yes—yes sir. We'll bring—"
"Not alone." I leaned in, close enough for him to feel the spit. "You bring your men. You bring proof. You bring the corpse and the scarf and you stand here with them at my feet. You will tell me to my face why you followed through."
Heads bowed. They understood what that meant: humiliation in public, bookkeeping for a debt. They would carry that shame.
"And one more thing," I said, voice colder. "If any of you lie, you will learn what absence is. You will learn it properly." I let that hang.
They moved like trained animals — quick, obedient, terrified. The stripped man tried to pull his jacket back on but kept his eyes down. He would remember every step to that factory. He would remember every face.
When the gate closed behind them I stood there for a long moment, the night pressing in. I felt the scarf in my head — small, useless, and everything. I flicked a cigarette and watched the ember die slow.
Then I sat back in my car and began to call names. There would be questions, there would be work. There would be punishment. There would be a list of people who had to pay.