The crisp morning air bit sharply into my skin as I stood frozen beneath the stone archway, my eyes locked on the tiny figure of three-year-old Elsie.The crisp morning air bit sharply into my skin as I stood frozen beneath the stone archway, my eyes locked on the tiny figure of three-year-old Elsie.

The crisp morning air bit sharply into my skin as I stood frozen beneath the stone archway, my eyes locked on the tiny figure of three-year-old Elsie. The snow continued to fall in soft, silent flakes, dusting the oversized red wool coat she wore with a delicate white powder. Just moments ago, a seasoned, professional handler had bolted through the iron estate gates in sheer terror, his face pale and his arm dripping blood from a vicious attack by Nero—the same massive black dog who had served as my shadow and protector for ten long years.

Yet now, the terrifying beast that grown men wouldn't dare approach lay completely docile on the freezing cobblestones. His massive head rested softly in the little girl's lap.

Nero's amber eyes were heavy, blinking slowly. The low, ominous growl that had rumbled inside his chest like an earthquake had disappeared entirely, replaced by the rhythmic, heavy sound of his breathing.

“Bruno. Come,” I commanded again, stepping forward with deliberate slowness, my voice carrying the firm, unwavering authority that had kept my empire intact for over a decade.

One of Nero's triangular ears twitched at the old command name, but his body didn't move an inch. He simply closed his eyes, leaning his full weight deeper into Elsie's tiny lap as if he had finally found an anchor in a storm that had been tearing him apart for months.

Elsie didn't seem frightened at all. A bright, innocent smile returned to her face as her small fingers gently smoothed out the damp black fur behind his left ear.

Then, her tiny fingers popped out.

The smile melted away, replaced by a sudden look of intense confusion and worry. Her little brow furrowed as her fingers probed deeper into the dense, coarse coat right along Nero's neck line.

“Mister Alessio?” she whispered, her voice carrying a strange, fragile weight across the silent courtyard. “Something is hiding under his fur. It's pointy.”

My heart skipped a beat. A cold spike of dread shot straight down my spine.

For the first time since stepping outside, I hurried across the icy stones, closing the distance between us in three long strides. Sienna, still paralyzed by a mother's terror a few feet away, let out a soft gasp as I approached.

“Elsie, sweetie, step back just a second,” I gently, kneeling down beside them on the frozen ground.

Nero let out a low, shuddering sigh, his warm breath pluming in the freezing air. I parted his thick black ruff, moving my fingers past his leather collar to the sensitive skin beneath.

My blood ran instantly cold.

Embedded deep against his inflamed, raw skin was a custom-machined titanium band equipped with four tiny, razor-sharp internal prongs piercing his flesh. Tucked against the metal was a high-tech micro-transmitter flashing an erratic, pulsing red diode, wired flush directly to a remote radio frequency receiver.

It wasn't a standard training prong collar. It was an ultrasonic torment device—an illegal neurological disruptor designed to send agonizing, high-voltage high-frequency shocks directly into the base of his skull whenever a specific remote trigger was pressed out of sight.

The realization hit me with the force of a freight train.

Nero hadn't turned feral. He wasn't aging into unpredictable aggression. Someone inside my own estate—someone with access to the private kennels and the security schedules—had been intentionally torturing him day and night, driving him mad with invisible agony to make me believe my most loyal companion had become a danger to everyone around him.

They wanted me to put him down. They wanted the only living creature that slept outside my bedroom door out of the way.

My hands trembled with a sudden, blinding rage. Without hesitation, I reached around Elsie and popped the locking mechanism of the vicious device carefully. The moment the steel prongs pulled free from his swollen flesh, Nero gave a soft, grateful whine, pressing his wet nose gently against Elsie's cheek.

"The man with the shiny car put that on him," Elsie whispered softly, looking up at me with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "He told Bruno to be quiet, but Bruno cried in the garage yesterday. Uncle Matteo gave the man a treat after."

Matteo.

My own cousin. My underboss. The man who had managed estate logistics and hired that exact professional handler that very morning, claimed Nero was becoming a liability and needed "strict discipline" or a bullet to the brain.

I stood slowly to my feet, holding the blood-stained titanium torture device tightly in my palm. The Chicago courtyard felt ten degrees colder, but the fire burning inside my chest was lethal.

"Marco," I called out, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that made my guards flinch.