Chapter 13
1055 Words
Luca’s POV
I cursed sharply under my breath, the string of Italian profanities flowing naturally as Mario leaned against the desk, holding up his phone for me to see. My jaw clenched as I read the caption under Bianca’s latest i********: post.
There she was, kissing me on the cheek in one of those obnoxiously staged photos she always forced on me. The caption read, “Husband-to-be ❤️❤️ Can’t wait to marry this perfect man! #Blessed #PowerCouple”
She’d even tagged my i********: account. A damned account I hadn’t wanted in the first place, but one she insisted I create. With just one post—a photo of the two of us she made me upload—it already had over a million followers. Mostly hers, of course, all commenting ridiculous emojis and hashtags.
“Mario,” I said through gritted teeth, slamming my palms on the desk. “How the hell does she keep doing this?”
Mario smirked, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Well, boss, maybe she’s just excited about the wedding.”
I shot him a glare, and his smirk only widened. “Relax, Luca. It’s just a post. You’re a social media star now. Maybe you’ll go viral next.”
“Fottiti,” I snapped, standing abruptly and grabbing my jacket. I was seething, not just at Bianca but at everything. This ridiculous façade of a life, the constant image I had to maintain, and now this—her parading me around like some accessory to her delusional fairytale.
I needed an outlet. Something to bleed.
“Where’s the report on the traitors?” I barked at Mario as we headed out.
He handed me a file, his tone shifting to seriousness. “Warehouse five. Everything’s ready.”
“Good,” I muttered, the simmering rage in my chest barely contained. “Time to remind everyone why loyalty is the only currency that matters.”
The air inside the warehouse was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin and whispered warnings into your ear. The moment I stepped in, my gaze fell on the scene in the center of the room.
The three men who’d betrayed me lay sprawled on the floor, their bodies lifeless, blood pooling beneath them. My fist clenched as I took in the sight.
“Who the f**k killed them?” I demanded, my voice cold and cutting through the room like a blade.
Vincent stepped forward, a smug grin plastered on his face. “I did it for you, boss. Took care of them before they could cause any more trouble.”
Mario and I exchanged a quick, loaded glance. This wasn’t just an impulsive move. It was disrespect. Vincent had taken something that wasn’t his to take—my prey.
“Everyone, gather,” I ordered, my voice sharp and commanding. The twenty men stationed around the warehouse quickly formed a loose circle, their faces taut with unease. Vincent stood in the center, chest puffed out as if he’d done me a favor.
“Explain,” I said, folding my arms and fixing my gaze on him.
Vincent’s grin widened. “I helped you, boss. Those rats were going to bring us all down. So I took them out. Fast, clean, no mess. That’s loyalty.”
“Loyalty?” I repeated, my tone deceptively calm. “You think this is loyalty?”
“Yes, boss!” Vincent beamed, oblivious to the storm brewing in my eyes. “I showed everyone here what it means to be loyal to you.”
The tension in the room thickened as I slowly reached into my jacket and pulled out my gun. Vincent’s grin faltered as the cold metal gleamed under the dim light.
Without a word, I raised the gun and fired two shots. One for each of his legs.
Vincent’s scream ripped through the warehouse as he collapsed to his knees, clutching at his bleeding thighs. “Boss! Boss, what—what did I do?”
I stepped forward, my boots heavy against the concrete floor. “Do you know what you did wrong?” I asked, my voice calm, almost conversational.
The men around us stood frozen, their faces pale. One brave soul stammered, “He—he was standing beside you, gloating?”
I shook my head, amused by the answer but not satisfied. “No, that could’ve earned him a bullet. Maybe two. But it wouldn’t have cost him his life.”
Vincent’s eyes widened in terror, his hands trembling as he tried to crawl closer to me. “Boss, please! I was only trying to help!”
I stepped on his hand, the sound of his fingers cracking under my weight filling the room. “You deprived me of my fun, Vincent,” I said, my voice low but laced with venom. “You stole my prey. And for that, you’ll pay the price.”
“Please! Boss, please! I won’t do it again, I swear!” Vincent’s voice cracked, his sobs echoing in the silent room.
I crouched down, leveling my gaze with his bloodied, tear-streaked face. “A lion doesn’t let others take his kill, Vincent. Remember that in the afterlife.”
His screams were cut short as I pressed the barrel of my gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, loud and final, the echo bouncing off the walls as his lifeless body slumped to the ground.
I straightened, holstering my gun as I turned to the rest of the room. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with fear.
“Let this be a reminder,” I said, my voice sharp and commanding. “Loyalty is not just about action. It’s about respect. Never forget your place in my den.”
The room was silent, save for the sound of Vincent’s blood pooling on the floor. Mario stepped up beside me, his expression grim but approving.
“Feel better?” he asked quietly.
I gave him a faint smirk, my rage dulled but not extinguished. “Let’s clean this up. We’ve got more to do.”
As we left the warehouse, I couldn’t shake the faint flicker of satisfaction that came from reminding everyone who I was. Luca Ferrante. The lion who didn’t share his prey.
- Writer
