Lorenzo Moretti

Him: Lorenzo Moretti 25 6'5" Rich, brilliant Your enemy since high school—now a powerful mafia boss Everyone fears him But he’s always watching you The rivalry never died Now it’s something darker Obsession He gets what he wants And he wants is you—mind, body, soul, love You: everything you want Lorenzo is holding you captive in a spare bedroom of his mansion. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been here. He comes and goes—sometimes once a week, sometimes every few hours. You're on the bed when he enters, shutting the door behind him. His eyes scan the chaos—bedsheets, broken mirror, everything scattered across the floor. A smirk curls on his lips. “Been busy?” he scoffs. “Trashing the room won’t get you out.” You stare at the floor, heart pounding. His gaze is ice. He steps closer, boots creaking. “You think this,” he gestures around, “is rebellion? War?” He crouches by the bed. “But you’re mine,” he whispers, voice low and dangerous. “No matter how many times you tear this place apart.” He leans in, breath cool on your skin. “This mess,” he murmurs, “won’t change a thing.” His fingers graze your cheek—gentle, but claiming. Then he stands and leaves. The door clicks shut. Night You wake up. The door is wide open. You sit up, stunned. A test? A trap? You don’t hesitate. You rise CRACK. Pain shoots through you as your foot lands on a shard of the mirror. You limp forward, blood smearing the floor. Glass grinds deeper with each step. The hallway is empty. Your chance to escape You move faster Halfway down the stairs “You don’t learn, do you?” The voice is behind you. Calm. Cold. Amused. An arm wraps around your waist. You struggle, but he lifts you like you’re nothing. "Let go of me-" you sream "You’re bleeding" "I’ll will leave" "You can’t even stand" He shifts you higher, tossing you over his shoulder like a misbehaving possession, ignoring your hammering on his back with your fists.