Chapter 2

Third Person POV

The room is well-lit, shimmering in an almost suffocating extravagance. Every surface is adorned with golden intricacy, catching the light from the crystal chandeliers that hang frozen in the ceiling. All while a piece of classical music is playing in the background.

  A man in a tattered white robe stained with blood sat chained to a white floral chair, its gold accents contrasting the desperation visible on the man’s face. Two men in suits flanked him, they were both equipped with guns, their hands gripping the chair into position as the man tried to wiggle out. The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage.

  The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life.

  “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage. The noise the chair created echoed in the entire room from his futile effort to attack Lucien.

  “Nope, I just betrayed you first,” Lucien said, his voice raspy but cold. He pulled a chair, its gold legs scraping against the polished marble floor, and sat facing the bound man. A smirk played on his lips as he traced the barrel of his gun from the man’s mouth to his head, then down to his jaw. The chained man went stiff, his breath catching in his throat. He worked with Lucien for the longest time, and for him, he was nothing but a rabid dog wearing a suit. He’ll bite the hand of the owner who feeds him without second thoughts.

  “In Mafia, there’s no such thing as loyalty, only betrayal,” Lucien continued, leaning back in his chair, “Well, as long as they have the guts to go through with it.” He darted his eyes at his men, as they sweat profusely from the tension.

  “You think you can get away from doing this to me? I’m gonna kill you and feed your remains to the dogs!” the man roared.

  Lucien clicked his tongue, a sound that echoed the arrogance in his eyes. “I see,” he said, nodding. “But their bodies are scattered in the hallway. Are they going to be okay?” he acted innocent before letting out a chuckle and fixed his gaze at the bound man.

  The two men behind the man laughed, their faces twisted in amusement. In their mind, There’s nothing better than seeing the most feared figure in the plethora of criminals in action. Lucien raised his hand to gesture them to stop and they did without second thoughts.

  “You demon!” the man hissed, his voice thick with hate.

  “I am,” Lucien replied before flashing him with a sarcastic smile.

  “If I’m not, I will be the one sitting in your place, Am I?” he smirked.

The whir of a helicopter broke the tense silence, its sound echoed throughout the entirety of the room. Lucien stood up on his feet as if it was a sign of something.

  “It’s here!” he announced.

  “What is that?” the man asked, confused.

  “Oh, I guess I should let you know,” Lucien said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “That chopper is the final scene, it’s going to burn everything down even your legacies, and before this day ends, you’ll be nothing but a memory. You were no longer the Mafia king. I am.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against the man’s ear. But his words brought a menacing chill, the man’s eyes widened, and his veins caught in fear.

  “L’Italia è mia. (Italia is mine.)” Lucien announced and walked away.

The man continued to scream obscenities, but his words were lost on deaf ears. The sound of their feet echoed as they walked out of the room, Lucien paused before opening the door and turned back.

  “Adios, amigo!” he said, raising a hand in a mocking wave before aiming his gun at the bound man and pulling the trigger.

  “Let’s go,” he commanded, adjusting his suit as if the execution were merely a minor inconvenience.

  Lucien sat in his car, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other holding a lit cigarette. Jazz music played softly in the background. In the distance, a chopper in the sky sprayed gasoline onto the mansion. Lucien flicked his cigar ash out the window, watching as the flames climbed higher, consuming the former king’s legacy. He planned to leave nothing untouched, no trace of the old empire.

Lucien glanced at his phone when it started ringing. He stopped the song before putting the earpiece on. His finger clicked the answer button. His green eyes hardening.

  “Are you done?” a husky voice rasped through the earpiece.

  “Almost,” Lucien shortly replied, his eyes on the road.

  “Good,” the voice said, “Now you have no reason to not attend your wedding. The private jet is waiting for you. Your wedding is tomorrow.”

  “Wait…” Lucien started, but the call disconnected, leaving him staring at the darkened screen. He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the phone. He hurled it into the backseat before turning the wheel and changing direction. He was heading to the airport.

  It was Claud, his blood brother, the only family he had left, and he sure played his cards right as he was the only person in the world who could command him like that. His phone lit up with a text message.

  ‘Venue: Glory Hills, Sierra Hotel’

  What no one knew was that beneath the ruthless exterior, Lucien was a man who had not been in a relationship. At 32, he is still single. He had never been satisfied with any woman he ever slept with until they piled up enough that he started hating them, their touch made his stomach churn. And now, he can never even get his man up.

  _**

  Meanwhile, in a high-tech, glass-walled office overlooking the city, a man with salt and pepper hair gripped Lucas Wade’s shoulder. “Lucas, you have to get him this time. You’re the only one I can trust with this job.”

  The events of the past few days had taken a strange turn. Lucien, the man everyone thought was untouchable and had been in Italy for what they thought was for good, was now back in the country, and for the longest time he was untouchable, no one could take him down or no one even dared except for Lucas Wade, who has been hunting him for years.

  Lucas, the top agent of the International Crime Division, stood and stared at the panoramic view, his face stern.

  “Copy that, sir.”

  Just as he turned to leave, his phone buzzed. His lips curled when he read the name on the screen. “Hello,” he answered.

  “Hey, Luke! Remember Charlie? My fiancé that you don’t like? I have some good news for you…”

  “You’re getting married tomorrow, right? What’s up with that idiot? Did he do something?” Lucas's tone was laced with suspicion, his mood instantly soured at the mention of Charlie. He’d never liked the man, he always felt he was bad news, and he’s the reason he stopped hanging out with Cecelia, to begin with.

  “Yeah, well, now I can see the idiot for myself. I’m gonna ditch the wedding. Will you help me, please?”

  A slow smile spread across Lucas’s face. “What happened to our lover girl who was willing to put her name on the line for her dear Charlie?” he asked in a playful tone.

  “Dear Charlie my butt, he was screwing my sister, that bastard!” Cecilia’s voice was tight with anger.

  “I knew that was gonna happen. So, what’s your plan?”

  “Glory Hill in front of Seirra Hotel before 11 am. I’m gonna make sure they suffer the maximum shame.” Cecilia’s voice was laced with a quiet, chilling vengeance.

  Lucas chuckled, hearing her swear Charlie’s name was like music to his ears.

  “Deal.”