The rain fell in silver sheets over Aethelburg, blurring the skyline into a dream of glass and steel. Inside his penthouse, Dante Moretti stood motionless before the window, his reflection a ghost in the storm-lit glass. At twenty-eight, he ruled the city not through brute force, but through precision—each move calculated, each life weighed. They called him The Handsome's Mafia, a title born from irony, now etched in blood.\n\nAn encrypted alert flashed across his monitor: the senator’s daughter had been taken. Not just any girl—Elara Vance, the painter with eyes like dawn, whose work he’d secretly collected for years. A rival gang, led by the unhinged Julian Thorne, claimed responsibility. It was more than a kidnapping. It was a declaration of war.\n\nDante’s fingers curled around the edge of the desk. He didn’t care about politicians. But Elara… she was different. He had watched her from afar, never daring to approach. Now, she was in the hands of monsters.\n\nHe activated the comms. "Gear up," he said, voice low. "We’re going to war."\n\nAs he reached for his coat, a single thought cut through the ice of his mind: This time, I won’t let her go.