The CaptiveThe man was tied to the chair.Wrists bound, head slumped forward, breathing ragged.He wasn’t dead.Not yet.But he’d wish he was before we were done.Dante stood in front of him, rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.There was no rush.Pain was always more effective when it took its time.“Wake him up,” Dante said.I stepped forward.My knuckles connected with his jaw. Hard.His head snapped to the side, a groan escaping his lips.Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Bleary. Bloodshot.And when he finally focused?He saw me.His expression flickered—surprise, then something darker.He wasn’t afraid of me.Not yet.But he would be.Who Sent the Hit?Dante crouched in front of him, elbows resting on his knees.“Let’s not waste time.”His voice was calm. Too calm.“Who ordered the hit?”The man exhaled sharply. A laugh—low, broken.“You think I’ll tell you?” His voice was hoarse.Dante smiled. Slow. Dangerous.“You will.”He stood, adjusting his cuffs, before looking
The Moment of DecisionSalvatore sat frozen in his chair.The weight of what was happening finally settling in.Dante stood beside me, silent. Waiting.This was my call.I could feel every set of eyes on me. Our men. His men. The people who had doubted me, underestimated me, assumed I was just Dante’s pretty little second-in-command.This was my chance to show them exactly who I was.Exactly what I was capable of.I exhaled slowly.Then, I turned to one of our men standing by the door.“Knife.”A blade was handed to me within seconds.Salvatore tensed.I turned the knife over in my palm, feeling the weight of it. Considering.Then, I looked at him.“You made a mistake,” I said calmly.He swallowed. “Luca—”I slammed the blade into his hand.The sound of metal slicing through flesh and bone filled the room.Salvatore’s scream echoed.I twisted the knife slowly.“I’m not interested in your excuses.”The WarningBlood pooled on the table.Salvatore gasped, face pale.I leaned in, my voic
The car ride was silent.Dante sat beside me in the backseat, one hand resting against the leather seat, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. The faint glow of the ember cast shadows across his face.Outside, the city blurred past us—neon lights, dark streets, empty sidewalks.Everything felt too quiet.Too still.The scent of blood still clung to my skin, even after I’d wiped my hands clean. My shirt had specks of it, and the memory of Salvatore’s last breath still echoed in my mind.I had killed before. But this was different.This was power.This was becoming something I couldn’t walk away from.Dante exhaled smoke, his gaze fixed out the window. He hadn’t spoken since we left the warehouse.I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.Not yet.Not when my pulse was still pounding from the weight of everything that had just happened.The Penthouse: Only UsThe moment we stepped inside Dante’s penthouse, the world outside disappeared.The city was loud. The business was brutal. B
The world doesn’t stop after you take a life.That’s the first thing I learned.I had expected something to shift. Something to break.But the city kept moving. The sky didn’t darken. The ground didn’t split open beneath my feet.I had walked out of that warehouse with blood on my hands, and the world had kept going.And that was the part that scared me the most.The Weight of SilenceThe penthouse was quiet.Dante had left early, something about a meeting with the capos. He hadn’t said much before he left—just a lingering touch, a look that told me he knew I wasn’t okay.But he hadn’t asked.Dante never asked.And I never told him.I sat at the bar, staring at the untouched glass of whiskey in front of me.I had killed before. But this wasn’t like before.This time, I had done it for power.For a place at Dante’s side.For us.But was there even an us anymore?Or was I just a part of his empire now—another piece on the board?A Ghost in the MirrorI got up, walking into the bathroom.
A False Sense of PeaceFor the first time in days, the tension had eased.Dante had called an emergency meeting with the capos, leaving me at the penthouse with orders to stay put.I didn’t argue.I needed space.Time to breathe.To figure out if I was really as trapped as Dante made me feel.But the thing about power?It never lets you rest.The HitThe first sign something was wrong was the silence.Dante’s penthouse was never truly quiet. His men were always around, stationed near the entrances, patrolling the halls.But tonight, there was nothing.The hair on the back of my neck stood up.I set my drink down, my mind already cataloging escape routes, weapons, weaknesses.Then—The lights went out.I moved instantly.The gun Dante had given me was in my hand before I even had time to think.A second later, the glass balcony doors shattered.I ducked behind the couch, heart hammering, gun raised.A shadow moved through the darkness. Silent. Trained.Not a random thug.A professional
The MessageThe body arrived at sunrise.Luca was still asleep when Matteo called.Dante answered on the first ring.“You need to see this.”The weight in Matteo’s voice sent ice through Dante’s veins.Thirty minutes later, they were at the docks.A shipping container had been left open, the salty morning air carrying the scent of blood.Inside, a single chair sat in the middle of the steel room.And tied to it—The man who had tried to kill Luca.Except now, he was dead.His throat had been slit, his hands nailed to the armrests.Blood soaked the floor beneath him, dark and glistening in the dim light.Matteo handed Dante a note.No signature. No insignia. Just a single sentence.“You’re not untouchable, Romano.”Dante clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the paper.Whoever had sent this wasn’t just making a move.They were declaring war.Luca Wakes to ChaosLuca knew something was wrong the second he opened his eyes.Dante was standing by the window, his phone to his ear, voi
Luca’s POVI wasn’t sure when I stopped sleeping with both eyes closed.Maybe it was the night I slit Salvatore’s throat, or maybe it was when Dante called me his empire. But I knew what that really meant.Empires burn.I woke to silence.Not peaceful.Tense.Even before I sat up, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it—like pressure in the air before a storm. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand, not because I thought someone had breached the penthouse, but because paranoia is survival in this world.When I stepped into the living room, Matteo was there.Alone.Too quiet.I didn’t speak. Neither did he.He stood, staring out at the city skyline, one hand holding a lit cigarette, the other tucked into his jacket like he was hiding something.Maybe regret.Or maybe a weapon.I waited.He finally said, “You think you understand this world now.”My jaw tightened.“I understand it better than you think.”He exhaled smoke, still not looking at me. “Then you know not everyone is happy w
Luca’s POVThe morning sun cast long shadows across the marble floors of Dante’s penthouse. I stood by the window, watching the city awaken, yet my mind was elsewhere. Matteo’s betrayal had left a scar, not just on our operations, but on our trust.Dante entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He handed me a cup of espresso, his eyes searching mine.“We need to confront Enzo,” he said, breaking the silence.I nodded, the weight of the decision settling in. Enzo had been an ally, a mentor even. But recent events cast doubt on his intentions.DanteEnzo’s estate was a fortress, both in structure and secrecy. As we approached, the guards recognized us, granting entry without question. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, the usual warmth replaced by a palpable unease.Enzo greeted us in his study, a room adorned with relics of his past victories. He offered a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.“Dante, Luca. To what do I owe this visit?”I got straight to the point. “Matteo be
Luca’s POVThe city pulsed with unease. After our confrontation with Enzo, a name lingered in the air like a specter: the Sovereign. Whispers of a new power rising in the underworld had reached us, but details were scarce.I sat in Dante’s study, sifting through intelligence reports. Patterns emerged—territories changing hands without bloodshed, alliances shifting silently. It was as if an invisible hand orchestrated the chaos, guiding events from the shadows.DanteLuca’s observations mirrored my own. The Sovereign was not just a myth; they were real and methodical. Their influence seeped into every corner of our world, challenging the very foundation of our power.I summoned our most trusted informants, demanding answers. One name surfaced repeatedly: Umbraion. A figure cloaked in mystery, known for manipulating events without ever stepping into the light.LucaThe name Umbraion sent chills down my spine. Legends spoke of a man who could bend wills and reshape empires with a whisper
Luca’s POVThe morning sun cast long shadows across the marble floors of Dante’s penthouse. I stood by the window, watching the city awaken, yet my mind was elsewhere. Matteo’s betrayal had left a scar, not just on our operations, but on our trust.Dante entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He handed me a cup of espresso, his eyes searching mine.“We need to confront Enzo,” he said, breaking the silence.I nodded, the weight of the decision settling in. Enzo had been an ally, a mentor even. But recent events cast doubt on his intentions.DanteEnzo’s estate was a fortress, both in structure and secrecy. As we approached, the guards recognized us, granting entry without question. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, the usual warmth replaced by a palpable unease.Enzo greeted us in his study, a room adorned with relics of his past victories. He offered a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.“Dante, Luca. To what do I owe this visit?”I got straight to the point. “Matteo be
Luca’s POVI wasn’t sure when I stopped sleeping with both eyes closed.Maybe it was the night I slit Salvatore’s throat, or maybe it was when Dante called me his empire. But I knew what that really meant.Empires burn.I woke to silence.Not peaceful.Tense.Even before I sat up, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it—like pressure in the air before a storm. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand, not because I thought someone had breached the penthouse, but because paranoia is survival in this world.When I stepped into the living room, Matteo was there.Alone.Too quiet.I didn’t speak. Neither did he.He stood, staring out at the city skyline, one hand holding a lit cigarette, the other tucked into his jacket like he was hiding something.Maybe regret.Or maybe a weapon.I waited.He finally said, “You think you understand this world now.”My jaw tightened.“I understand it better than you think.”He exhaled smoke, still not looking at me. “Then you know not everyone is happy w
The MessageThe body arrived at sunrise.Luca was still asleep when Matteo called.Dante answered on the first ring.“You need to see this.”The weight in Matteo’s voice sent ice through Dante’s veins.Thirty minutes later, they were at the docks.A shipping container had been left open, the salty morning air carrying the scent of blood.Inside, a single chair sat in the middle of the steel room.And tied to it—The man who had tried to kill Luca.Except now, he was dead.His throat had been slit, his hands nailed to the armrests.Blood soaked the floor beneath him, dark and glistening in the dim light.Matteo handed Dante a note.No signature. No insignia. Just a single sentence.“You’re not untouchable, Romano.”Dante clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the paper.Whoever had sent this wasn’t just making a move.They were declaring war.Luca Wakes to ChaosLuca knew something was wrong the second he opened his eyes.Dante was standing by the window, his phone to his ear, voi
A False Sense of PeaceFor the first time in days, the tension had eased.Dante had called an emergency meeting with the capos, leaving me at the penthouse with orders to stay put.I didn’t argue.I needed space.Time to breathe.To figure out if I was really as trapped as Dante made me feel.But the thing about power?It never lets you rest.The HitThe first sign something was wrong was the silence.Dante’s penthouse was never truly quiet. His men were always around, stationed near the entrances, patrolling the halls.But tonight, there was nothing.The hair on the back of my neck stood up.I set my drink down, my mind already cataloging escape routes, weapons, weaknesses.Then—The lights went out.I moved instantly.The gun Dante had given me was in my hand before I even had time to think.A second later, the glass balcony doors shattered.I ducked behind the couch, heart hammering, gun raised.A shadow moved through the darkness. Silent. Trained.Not a random thug.A professional
The world doesn’t stop after you take a life.That’s the first thing I learned.I had expected something to shift. Something to break.But the city kept moving. The sky didn’t darken. The ground didn’t split open beneath my feet.I had walked out of that warehouse with blood on my hands, and the world had kept going.And that was the part that scared me the most.The Weight of SilenceThe penthouse was quiet.Dante had left early, something about a meeting with the capos. He hadn’t said much before he left—just a lingering touch, a look that told me he knew I wasn’t okay.But he hadn’t asked.Dante never asked.And I never told him.I sat at the bar, staring at the untouched glass of whiskey in front of me.I had killed before. But this wasn’t like before.This time, I had done it for power.For a place at Dante’s side.For us.But was there even an us anymore?Or was I just a part of his empire now—another piece on the board?A Ghost in the MirrorI got up, walking into the bathroom.
The car ride was silent.Dante sat beside me in the backseat, one hand resting against the leather seat, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. The faint glow of the ember cast shadows across his face.Outside, the city blurred past us—neon lights, dark streets, empty sidewalks.Everything felt too quiet.Too still.The scent of blood still clung to my skin, even after I’d wiped my hands clean. My shirt had specks of it, and the memory of Salvatore’s last breath still echoed in my mind.I had killed before. But this was different.This was power.This was becoming something I couldn’t walk away from.Dante exhaled smoke, his gaze fixed out the window. He hadn’t spoken since we left the warehouse.I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.Not yet.Not when my pulse was still pounding from the weight of everything that had just happened.The Penthouse: Only UsThe moment we stepped inside Dante’s penthouse, the world outside disappeared.The city was loud. The business was brutal. B
The Moment of DecisionSalvatore sat frozen in his chair.The weight of what was happening finally settling in.Dante stood beside me, silent. Waiting.This was my call.I could feel every set of eyes on me. Our men. His men. The people who had doubted me, underestimated me, assumed I was just Dante’s pretty little second-in-command.This was my chance to show them exactly who I was.Exactly what I was capable of.I exhaled slowly.Then, I turned to one of our men standing by the door.“Knife.”A blade was handed to me within seconds.Salvatore tensed.I turned the knife over in my palm, feeling the weight of it. Considering.Then, I looked at him.“You made a mistake,” I said calmly.He swallowed. “Luca—”I slammed the blade into his hand.The sound of metal slicing through flesh and bone filled the room.Salvatore’s scream echoed.I twisted the knife slowly.“I’m not interested in your excuses.”The WarningBlood pooled on the table.Salvatore gasped, face pale.I leaned in, my voic
The CaptiveThe man was tied to the chair.Wrists bound, head slumped forward, breathing ragged.He wasn’t dead.Not yet.But he’d wish he was before we were done.Dante stood in front of him, rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt.There was no rush.Pain was always more effective when it took its time.“Wake him up,” Dante said.I stepped forward.My knuckles connected with his jaw. Hard.His head snapped to the side, a groan escaping his lips.Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Bleary. Bloodshot.And when he finally focused?He saw me.His expression flickered—surprise, then something darker.He wasn’t afraid of me.Not yet.But he would be.Who Sent the Hit?Dante crouched in front of him, elbows resting on his knees.“Let’s not waste time.”His voice was calm. Too calm.“Who ordered the hit?”The man exhaled sharply. A laugh—low, broken.“You think I’ll tell you?” His voice was hoarse.Dante smiled. Slow. Dangerous.“You will.”He stood, adjusting his cuffs, before looking