"She Put Something in Your Cake!" A Homeless Girl Warned the Mafia Boss About His Cake—Seconds Later His Fiancée Collapsed, and One Detail on the Security Footage Revealed Who Had Planned the Funeral

Lorenzo stepped over the bodies of his men without a glance, his polished black shoes crunching on the shattered concrete. He held a silver revolver, but it was lowered casually at his side. He looked at me, taking in the sight of my torn silk dress, the heavy pistol shaking in my grip, and the fierce, terrified glare in my eyes.

"Impressive," Lorenzo murmured, his raspy voice echoing in the ruined room. "Alessandro chose a fighter. My brother's wife would have simply fainted."

"Drop the gun, Lorenzo," I ordered, my voice surprisingly steady despite the adrenaline tearing through my veins.

Lorenzo chuckled, taking a slow step forward. "You won't shoot me, little bird. You are not a killer. You are a civilian playing a dangerous game."

"If you take another step toward my daughter, you'll find out exactly what I am," I warned, cocking the hammer of the pistol.

Marco groaned from the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder, trying to push himself up. Lorenzo simply aimed his revolver at Marco's head.

"Lower your weapon, my dear, or your loyal dog dies right now," Lorenzo commanded softly.

Before I could react, a shadow detached itself from the smoke in the hallway. Alessandro moved with terrifying speed, a literal phantom in the dark. He didn't yell. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed Lorenzo from behind, violently twisting the arm that held the revolver.

The gun went off, the bullet burying itself harmlessly into the ceiling. Alessandro drove his knee into Lorenzo's back, forcing the older man to the ground. In a fluid motion, Alessandro drew his own weapon and pressed it directly against his uncle's temple.

"Hello, Uncle," Alessandro said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with pure, lethal intent. "You've overstayed your welcome."