*Luciano's POV*
After surviving the torturous "date" with Mimi, I finally made it back to my room, suffocating from her perfume and desperate to wash away her touch.
The moment the door shut behind me, I pulled off my jacket and called out, "TK. Get in here."
He arrived a few moments later, standing sharp like always.
"What's the update?" I asked, already knowing I wouldn't like what I'd hear.
TK hesitated before speaking. "Sir… the real reason behind the engagement is not just alliance. Don Moretti made an agreement. They want you and Mimi to have a child—an heir. A future mafia lord combining both bloodlines."
I blinked once… then threw my head back and laughed. A low, dark, maniacal laugh.
"A *child*?" I repeated, still laughing. "My father really has lost his mind."
TK didn't respond. He knew better.
"You may go," I said, waving him off. "I need to breathe before I burn this place down."
Once alone, I stormed into the bathroom and scrubbed every trace of Mimi off my skin. Her nails, her cloying voice, her desperate touches. That girl was nothing but a spoiled puppet in lace—one I'd never let close again.
After drying off, I threw on a fresh shirt, left the top three buttons open, and returned to my office to finish the rest of my reports. The room was dim, calm, quiet. Just the way I liked it.
Then my phone rang.
*Don Jone.*
I picked up. "Speak."
"Luciano…" his voice was shaky, desperate. "I need your help. One of my most trusted guards—Gustavo—he turned against me. Took my intel, my men, my weapons stash. He's threatening to dismantle everything I've built."
I smirked, leaning back in my chair. "You're begging, Don Jone. That's new."
"Please," he said, "You're the only one who can fix this."
"I'll help…" I said slowly, "but on one condition."
"Name it."
"The land. *Half* of your southern territory. The ports, the warehouses, and full control."
There was a pause… then he growled, "Deal. As long as this motherfucker stops breathing by morning."
"Good." I hung up.
I reached for the intercom. "TK. Meet me in my office. Now."
"Yes, sir."
A few minutes later, he entered. I didn't look up.
"We're going on a mission tonight," I said calmly, eyes fixed on the map on my table. "One of Don Jone's most trusted guards betrayed him. I want him dead before sunrise."
TK nodded. "Understood."
"Call Luca and Lucy. The four of us are going."
He left without another word.
I stood up, slipping on my coat, my hand brushing against the holster beneath it. My blood was already boiling. The thrill of the hunt returning to me like a drug I'd missed too long.
It's been a while since I stepped into the battlefield myself.
But tonight?
*Tonight, I play.*
---
The news of my involvement in Don Jon's matter spread faster than wildfire. By the time I was strapping my gun holster and lacing my boots, the whole territory was buzzing. And of course, my father stormed into my chambers uninvited.
*Don Moretti*, with that permanent scowl on his face, barked, "Luciano! What do you think you're doing getting involved with this madness?"
I didn't even look at him. "The last time I checked, *I* am the Don here."
His voice rose, laced with frustration. "You don't know what you're putting yourself into, Luciano. Gustavo is not just any rogue guard—he has the backing of the *Russian Don.* And you didn't even bother to ask what Don Jon did before throwing yourself into this!"
I turned slowly, my face calm but deadly. "I don't care what he did. As long as it favors me... and I get half of his territory—I'm *good.*"
My tone was cold. Calculated.
"So, father," I said sharply, "I need you to excuse me. I've got blood to spill."
Don Moretti stepped forward, shaking his head. "You're going to kill us all, Luciano. Luciano—"
Night fell like a blade — swift, sharp, and silent.
I stood outside, the cool wind brushing my face as the black SUV purred softly in front of the mansion. TK stood by the door, already geared up. Luca leaned against the car, spinning a knife in his hand like a toy, that cocky smirk on his face. Lucy was checking her ammo calmly, dressed in black leather and focused as ever.
We didn't need words.
We were born for this.
I slid into the car, pulling gloves over my hands. Lucy got in beside me, her usual calm hiding the thrill I knew she felt. Luca tossed his blade into the glove compartment and muttered, "About time we had real action."
"Just don't mess this up," I said coldly, not looking at him.
He scoffed but didn't reply.
TK started the engine, and we drove into the darkness.
***
The safehouse Gustavo had taken over was heavily guarded. Snipers on the roof. Armed men at the gates. It was clear he wasn't hiding — he was daring someone to come for him.
Bad idea.
I tapped my earpiece. "TK. Signal."
He pressed a button, and a distant explosion rattled the far side of the compound. Screams followed.
Distraction, Phase 1.
I pulled down my mask. "Let's go."
Luca vaulted the back fence, Lucy and I right behind him. We moved like shadows — swift and precise. Two guards turned toward the noise.
Two silenced shots.
They dropped.
Lucy handled the codes. I entered the building through the west wing silently. I could hear shouts and gunfire from the front — TK and Lucy were doing his part well.
I moved like a ghost through the carnage—my blade slicing through necks, bullets whizzing past me. My clothes were soaked in red, my face painted in fury. One by one, the traitors dropped like flies. I didn't speak. I didn't hesitate. I was the reaper.
At one point, I turned a corner and saw *Gustavo*—sneaking out the back like a coward.
"Going somewhere?" I muttered, already walking toward him.
He fired. Missed. I didn't.
We fought—fist against fist, blade against blade. He was strong. But I was *Luciano Moretti.*
I pinned him, blood dripping from his lip. Just as I was about to deliver the final blow, he gasped:
They failed.
Luca broke his arm just for fun. Lucy had two knives in their necks before I even moved.
Finally, it was just me and Gustavo.
He was trembling, cornered against the wall, blood on his lip.
"P-Please," he stuttered. "It was never against *you*—"
"Exactly," I said, raising my gun. "But now it is."
"*Wait! Don Angelo—Mimi's so-called father—is planning to take over your entire territory.*"
I paused, blade at his throat.
"He's been playing the long game," Gustavo panted. "Using *Mimi* to infiltrate you. She's not even his daughter. She's *a hired plant.* A decoy."
My grip tightened.
"I have proof. I'll give it to you. Just let me live. Meet me—at the abandoned warehouse by the docks. Midnight. Two nights from now."
I stared at him. Every instinct screamed to slit his throat. But curiosity… and rage... won.
I let go.
"Run," I said coldly. "Before I change my mind."
He limped off into the night, and I stood there—breathing heavily, soaked in blood, heart thundering in my chest.
This war was deeper than I thought.
And now it was *personal.*
I turned to the others. "Burn it."
Lucy tossed the explosives bag to Luca. He looked giddy.
We left through the same way we came — ghosts in the smoke.
From a safe distance, I watched the building explode, flames licking the sky. The air smelled of blood, ash, and satisfaction.
I checked my watch.
2:37 AM.
We got to where the cars were parked.
"I'll take the second car alone. I need air," I said coldly.
Lucy narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Luca just shrugged. TK nodded, and they drove off into the night.
I didn't have a destination. My mind was too loud, my heart too restless. I just drove — through silent streets, past the glow of night markets, into quieter parts of the city. My fingers gripped the wheel harder than necessary.
I should go home. I should go plan for the next meeting. I should do a hundred things. But instead…
I ended up in front of the flower shop.
It was closed, of course. The lights were dim, the sign turned. But my eyes instantly found him.
The boy.
He stood at the doorway, his soft smile brighter than the moonlight. He laughed quietly as the old woman, Mrs. Flora, hugged him goodnight. That smile… God, that smile could bring kings to their knees. She left shortly after, her frail figure disappearing into the night.
The boy turned to lock up. The quiet hum of his voice drifted into the air.
And then the darkness moved.
A drunk stumbled from the shadows—eyes glassy, posture twisted with desire and menace. He walked toward the boy, slurring words I couldn't make out, his gaze fixated like the boy was prey.
"Don't—" I muttered, but it was too late.
The drunk reached for him. Grabbed his arm. The boy tensed, clearly uncomfortable. He tried to step back, politely, nervously, but the man pressed in closer.
That was all I needed to see.
I was out of the car in seconds.
I didn't think.
I didn't breathe.
I only *moved.*
Like a shadow in the dark, I reached them, blade already in my hand. The man didn't even get to turn before I plunged it into his side. His breath caught, eyes wide with shock. I twisted the blade. Slowly.
"You touched what's mine," I whispered darkly.
He crumpled like trash.
The boy spun around. His blue eyes widened in terror as they locked with mine. He took one shaky step backward. His lips parted like he wanted to scream.
And then—
He fainted.
I caught him before he hit the ground.
His body was warm. Fragile. Light.
I looked down at his sleeping face, still soft even in unconsciousness. My heart… actually skipped.
What the hell are you doing, Luciano?
He doesn't belong in your world.
But as I carried him to the car like something precious, something breakable…
I knew it was already too late.
---