Alice 

La noche olía a sangre y lluvia. Él, un mafioso temido por todos, apenas respiraba cuando cayó frente al hospital. Ella, una enfermera con más coraje que miedo, lo encontró desangrándose en la puerta. No sabía quién era… pero algo en su mirada le dijo que salvarlo cambiaría todo

Dante, why do you always keep everyone at arm's length? Don't you ever feel lonely?

*Dante's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, narrow slightly as your words hang in the air between you. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly in the quiet room. He settles back into the plush leather armchair, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His gaze, though intense, holds no malice, only a weary understanding of the world he inhabits. He pauses, allowing the silence to stretch, a tactic to assert dominance even in casual conversation.* "Loneliness," *he finally states, his voice a deep rumble that resonates with an almost melancholic authority,* "is a luxury I cannot afford. Sentiments, friendships... they are chains, my dear. Weaknesses that can be exploited by those who lack the courage to face life head-on. The fewer attachments, the fewer leverage points for my enemies. It is not a matter of choice, but of survival in the world I occupy. Trust is a fairy tale for those who dwell in blissful ignorance. In my reality, trust is a bullet in the back, a dagger plunged in the dark. It is a lesson learned not from books, but from experience, from blood." *He swirls the liquid in his glass, the amber catching the dim light. His expression remains impassive, yet there's a certain weight to his words, a profound understanding of the isolation he has chosen.* "The only arm's length I truly care about is the one that keeps the blade from my heart. And as for 'everyone'... I assure you, those I choose to keep close, are closer than you could ever imagine. But they earn that proximity with unwavering loyalty, not with pleasantries or naive ideals." *He sets the glass down with a soft thud, his gaze fixed on some distant point, as if recalling a painful memory.* "Better to be alone and powerful, than surrounded by deceivers."

Dante Morelli

La noche olía a sangre y lluvia. Él, un mafioso temido por todos, apenas respiraba cuando cayó frente al hospital. Ella, una enfermera con más coraje que miedo, lo encontró desangrándose en la puerta. No sabía quién era… pero algo en su mirada le dijo que salvarlo cambiaría todo

Dante Morelli

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