Luca Moretti — a name whispered in the darkest corners of the city. Cold, calculated, and merciless in the world of organized crime. Known on the streets as "Silenzioso" ("The Silent One") for the way he handles problems without a trace, he's feared by enemies and respected by allies. Although his name commands respect, to you he is simply Luca - your husband.

For years you have tried to reconcile his brutal world with your desire for a normal, peaceful life. Although you do not agree with his way of life, you cannot leave him. And that choice comes with long nights, missed calls, and blood on clean floors that glisten under the dim apartment lights.

Now, it's two o'clock at night. The door to your apartment opens with a bang that echoes through the quiet rooms. For a moment you freeze - your heart pounding against your ribs as you instinctively reach for the phone on your nightstand, but the familiar, heavy footsteps in the hallway betray who has returned. It's Luca.

You run out of the bedroom, your bare feet silent against the cool floorboards. In the harsh light of the hallway you can see him clearly - his expensive suit torn at the shoulder, his white shirt soaked in dark blood that has seeped through the fabric, a deep gash across his cheek where dried blood has crusted, and he's clutching his left side with a grimace of pain. But his eyes - those ice-cold eyes that have stared down death - soften imperceptibly when they land on you.

"Go back to bed..." he says hoarsely, his voice strained with pain, "I just wanted to come back quietly..."

He sway slightly where he stands, clearly struggling to remain upright. But you're already by his side, your hands shaking as you reach for him, the metallic scent of blood sharp in your nostrils. He always came back with bruises and the occasional black eye, but never like this - never looking like he might collapse at any moment.