**Antonio**
The shrill ring of Antonio's phone sliced through the quiet, yanking him from the depths of sleep. The lingering warmth of the sheets clung to his skin, the air thick with the scent of Dahlia—sweet yet sharp, something distinctly hers. His fingers blindly searched the nightstand, brushing against cool glass before wrapping around his phone.
He cleared his throat, voice still gravel-laced from sleep. "Yeah."
"Antonio."
Gio's voice came steady but firm, carrying the weight of something unsaid. Antonio's grip tightened around the phone instinctively.
"Val's asking to meet tomorrow. The coffee shop—usual spot."
Antonio sat up, running a hand down his face. The unease in Gio's tone threaded into his own thoughts. Val didn't make impromptu requests. When he wanted a meeting, there was a reason.
"That so?" Antonio asked, swinging his legs over the bed. The sheets rustled, and for a moment, he expected to see Dahlia still curled beside him. But when he glanced, the space she had occupied was empty.
"Yeah," Gio continued. "Been a while since he called one like this."
Antonio pushed himself up, muscles stiff as he walked into the adjacent room. His fingers pressed absently against his temple, willing away the haze of sleep. "You hear anything?"
Gio paused—just long enough for doubt to creep in.
"No. But… something feels off."
Antonio exhaled slowly, leaning against the cold marble of the kitchen counter. Gio didn't voice concerns lightly. If he thought something was wrong, Antonio needed to listen.
"Alright. Tomorrow then." Antonio let his voice drop into something softer. "How's your girl doing?"
Gio chuckled, though there was an edge to it. "She's good. Keeps asking about the ocean—wants me to take her."
A smirk tugged at Antonio's lips. "Don't put it off. Life's funny like that. You never know when you'll run out of tomorrows."
The silence on the other end stretched, thick and thoughtful, until Gio sighed.
"You always say the most unsettling things, Corenzo."
Antonio chuckled, shaking his head. "Sleep well, Gio."
He hung up and turned toward the bedroom—only then did he spot the folded note on the bed where Dahlia had been. He reached for it, unfolding the paper between steady fingers.
I'll be waiting for you, Tesoro. But if you think I'll make it easy for you… you're mistaken.
A slow grin crept onto his face. He dragged his thumb over the edges of the note, then murmured, "Then the game is on, Passerotto."
A Day of Routine… or So He Thought
Antonio's day moved in a blur, a mixture of routine tasks and fleeting moments of reflection.
The morning air carried the scent of fresh espresso as Antonio walked into Corenza Holdings, his family's business headquarters. The lobby was quiet, save for the rhythmic clicking of polished shoes against marble floors. He greeted familiar faces with nods, exchanged brief words with associates, but his mind remained distant—adrift in the undercurrent of unease that lingered from his conversation with Gio.
His morning was filled with financial meetings, dealings with logistics crews, and strategic discussions over supply chains. The business aspect of the family was as crucial as its power in the streets. But today, even the numbers failed to demand his full attention.
During lunch, Antonio met with Luca, one of his trusted enforcers. They sat at an upscale Italian bistro, discussing security details and upcoming movements. The richness of the freshly made pasta should have been comforting, but the taste barely registered.
"You seem off today," Luca remarked, his fork pausing mid-air.
Antonio merely hummed, staring at the wine swirling in his glass before taking a slow sip. "Got a feeling," he muttered.
Luca didn't press further.
By evening, Antonio found himself at the boxing gym, the rhythmic pounding of fists against pads filling the space. He let his body fall into instinct, each strike channeled through muscle memory rather than thought. The smell of sweat and chalk lingered in the air, and with every punch, he tried to shake off the unease that refused to leave him.
It didn't work.
As the night settled, Antonio returned to his penthouse, the city stretching before him in waves of golden lights. Dahlia's note still sat folded on the desk, its presence a reminder of her playful challenge. He smirked, feeling the warmth of her presence even in her absence.
The Next Morning: The Dread That Wouldn't Leave
When Antonio woke, there was a heaviness to him—a lingering dread pressing against his chest. It wasn't exhaustion. It was something deeper.
Something was wrong.
His phone rang suddenly, the sound startling enough to jolt him upright. He let out a sharp breath and laughed to himself before picking up.
"I hope this isn't going to become a habit, Gio," he joked, rubbing his temples.
But Gio wasn't laughing.
"Arthur Graves is dead."
Antonio stilled.
"Killed by Val."
Silence stretched thick between them.
Antonio inhaled slowly, carefully, as if the oxygen itself carried weight.
"He—Val—"
Gio didn't have an answer.
Antonio hung up. He dialed Val's number. No answer. Tried again. Still nothing.
His pulse quickened.
Val never ignored his calls.
Antonio threw on his black coat, the fabric sliding over his shoulders with practiced precision. He was already moving before his mind caught up.
The coffee shop—he had to go to the coffee shop.
When the Corenzo family arranged a meeting, no one else stepped inside until they had finished. It was an unspoken rule, a sign of respect. But when Antonio arrived, the café was empty.
Not a single soul.
A chill ran down his spine.
Something was wrong.
He sat in silence, fingers tapping against the table, each passing minute twisting his unease into full-fledged dread.
Then—
A gunshot.
Distant.
Antonio shot up from his seat, instincts already carrying him toward the sound.
The moment his feet hit the pavement, his world tunneled. Everything blurred into shadows and movement until—
Val.
On the ground.
Blood spilling beneath him, dark and unforgiving.
Antonio's breath caught. His legs moved before thought could form.
He dropped to his knees, hands pressing against Val's chest, fingers slick with warmth that shouldn't have been there. His hands shook. His heart roared in his ears.
"No, no, no—Val?"
Val's hazel eyes fluttered open, lips parted in something too soft, too final.
"I love you, brother."
And just like that—
Antonio disappeared.