My father lets me go and steps back, pulling the gun from his holster. He holds it out to me, the weight of it heavier than I expect. “Then do it. Show me you understand what it means to lead.”
I hesitate, my finger hovering over the trigger. The man looks up at me, his eyes pleading, his lips trembling as he mutters prayers under his breath.
“Luca,” my father snaps, “do it. Or I’ll shoot you both.”
The shot rings out before I even register pulling the trigger.
The man slumps forward, lifeless. My hands shake as I lower the gun, my chest heaving.
My father places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Good. You remember this moment, boy. Mercy is for the weak. And we are never weak.”
The memory burns like a brand. The lessons my father taught me weren’t optional; they were about survival. Violence wasn’t just the means, it was the foundation. The flashback leaves a sour taste in my mouth
Valentina will have to make peace with this life. She doesn’t have a choice. None of us do.
I don’t miss the irony of it. The same values I had once cursed my father for forcing on me are the ones that now shape my decisions, that guide every move I make. I was forged in fire, and now, I expect Valentina to walk through her own.
But the softness I’ve allowed myself—the stolen moments of peace, the rare vulnerability I’ve shown her—they’ve left cracks in the armor I’ve spent years perfecting.
I can’t afford cracks. My jaw tightens. The softness dies here.
The sleek black sedan glides through the city streets like a shark cutting through water. I lean back in the leather seat and channel my focus to my tablet as Marco taps away on his phone beside me. “Interesting woman, Sofia,” Marco says suddenly, his tone casual but just pointed enough to grab my attention.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, then return my gaze to the screen. “She’s trouble.”
Marco smirks, undeterred. “Most interesting women are.”
The sound of Dante shifting in the passenger seat catches my attention. His eyes flick to me in the rearview mirror, always watchful. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his amusement.
“She’s Valentina’s best friend,” I remind Marco dryly. “If you pursue her, tread carefully. She’s loyal to Valentina, but she has a penchant for rebellion. A woman like that doesn’t bend easily.”
“And yet Valentina’s here,” Marco points out, arching a brow.
“She’s here because I don’t give her a choice,” I snap, annoyed.Not that this doesn’t make me feel like shit, but what can I do about it?
Marco raises his hands in mock surrender, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a grin. “Noted, big brother.”
I return my attention to the tablet, but Marco’s words stir something uncomfortable. It’s true—Valentina is here because I’ve forced her to be. But forcing someone to stay doesn’t mean they’re truly yours.
Is she my prisoner?
I shake my head. The conversation shifts as we turn onto the highway, the cityscape melting into the industrial outskirts.
Dante clears his throat. “We need to finalize the plans for the docks,” he says, his tone all business now.
“Still running into issues with the permits?” Marco asks.
Dante nods. “The authorities are tightening their oversight. We need a way to divert attention, at least temporarily.”
“Then we bribe the inspectors or replace them,” I say without looking up. “What’s the point of controlling this city if we can’t control its pawns?”
Marco chuckles. “Always so pragmatic, Luca.”
“It’s not pragmatism,” I reply. “It’s survival.”
Dante nods in agreement. “We’ve also got interest from the eastern syndicate. They’re asking for a bigger cut if we want them to back the expansion.”
“They’re getting greedy,” Marco mutters.
