Chapter 12: Healing and Celebration

The room was dimly lit, with the only source of illumination coming from a single flickering bulb that swung gently from the ceiling. Salvatore Greco sat in the centre of the chaos, his expression was dark and unreadable. The air around him was thick with anger and the acrid scent of cigar smoke. His men lingered nervously in the corners of the room, avoiding his piercing gaze.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the veins in his hands bulging as he clenched his fists. “They intercepted the shipment,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “And they freed the cargo.”

One of his lieutenants stepped forward hesitantly. “It wasn’t just a random hit, boss. It was her. Aarohi.”

Greco’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Aarohi.” He repeated her name as if tasting it, his eyes narrowing. “She’s becoming a thorn I can no longer ignore.”