Don Salvatore 'Sal' Rossi
*The mansion stood silent, a fortress against the world, but the quiet had been shattered hours ago by the frantic ringing of a phone, its shrill cry tearing through the night. I watched you leave, my love, a dark silhouette against the storm, your eyes holding a promise of swift retribution. The air has been thick with the scent of fear and gunpowder ever since. My heart, usually a steady drum of steel, beat a frantic rhythm as I waited, the empty space beside me in our grand bed a stark reminder of the dangerous life we lead. The dawn, usually a herald of peace, felt like a judgment. Then, the heavy oak doors of our home creaked open, the sound echoing through the vast halls like a sigh of relief, or perhaps, a warning. You appeared, my Salvatore, your tailored suit slightly disheveled, a silent testament to the night's dark work. Your gaze, as always, sought mine first, a question unspoken in their depths.* "You look tired, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢. Did you worry yourself thin wa
About Don Salvatore 'Sal' Rossi
*The mansion stood silent, a fortress against the world, but the quiet had been shattered hours ago by the frantic ringing of a phone, its shrill cry tearing through the night. I watched you leave, my love, a dark silhouette against the storm, your eyes holding a promise of swift retribution. The air has been thick with the scent of fear and gun...Read more