LUCA

POWER. MONEY. VENGEANCE.

They all have something in common.

Each one is of an insidious nature. Leisurely degrading the most righteous and twisting them to be dangerous, destructive, and cold individuals.

Truthfully, I'd never pondered it much—the idea of how quickly trauma can change someone—but experience alters how we as humans think about certain concepts and how we decipher particular circumstances. The brain is a complicated fucking thing.

Perhaps this is why stories are written of angels and demons. Of good versus evil. Heroes and villains.

But what if you think you know who the bad guy is and you're wrong? What if you knew the whole story? Motives and intentions? Would it change your attitude about the person you'd always thought was the wrongdoer?

Is the villain really the villain? Is the hero really the hero? Would it not depend on who's telling the story?

What if everyone was bad in their own way?

Humans are incredibly selfish beings. We want and we take. We turn the other cheek to horrors happening every day because they aren't happening directly to us. We're greedy and we're constantly looking out for number one—ourselves.

Which is only what I was doing as I climbed the ladder.

The people standing around me are doing their best to do the same. To have some sort of status, power, or wealth so that when they enter a room, everyone pauses. They want all the attention to be on them.

I know it well. Each space I enter, I don't have to say a word. Their heads all turn like they're trained to do so. It's a combination of respect, curiosity, and utter terror.

As I glance at Raven beside me, she's the epitome of beauty. She's held the attention of every man and most women in here and she doesn't appear to have any clue about it.

Good thing she's all mine.

Raven is wearing an exquisite black gown with a massive skirt. It's sleeveless, with a high collar that wraps delicately around her neck. The mouthwatering part of it is that there's a slit down the middle of the bust of it—the shape of an eye, if it were twisted vertically—exposing the sides of her breasts in the most elegant, yet sensual way I think I've ever been lucky enough to witness.

As she sits beside me, finishing her dinner, memories of past galas flood my mind. Of Raven in a dress with a thigh-high slit. Of me, discreetly pulling the table cloth over her lap, urging her legs apart and finger fucking her while nobody was the wiser.

Leaning over to close the space between us, I place one hand to her knee as my mouth is hot against the shell of her ear. "We should get out of here." As I speak, my one hand grips her thigh through the skirts of her dress.

I'm done socializing with these pretentious fucks. I'm over it.

I see her chest tighten as she holds her breath, "You don't want to dance?" She wets her lips, sipping on her vodka tonic as a distraction.

I smirk against the curve of her neck, "No, I want you naked and bent over. I want my dessert."

To anyone else, she barely reacts. But I see the way her sinful lips curl around the edge of the glass. Feel the way she presses her thighs together, pinching my hand between them. Her heartbeat, as it begins to visibly thrum at the hollow of her throat.

She tosses the remainder of her drink down, turning in her chair to grip my jaw in her hand and brush her mouth over mine. "Good. Let's go." She gives me a lingering kiss—a hint of what's coming later—and then I stand, helping her up off her chair.

As we begin to exit the gala, my hand rests on the small of her back possessively. We pass table after table until we finally make it to the main entrance of the building, heading for the elevators that will take us to the hotel room I've rented for the night.

Nearing the large doors on the far side, I hit the call button and we stand together. One of my hands glides low on her back, grabbing a palmful of ass, a territorial type of touch that brands Raven as mine for everyone else to see right in the lobby, in front of multiple wandering eyes.

I press her pelvis close to mine, a promise of what's to come.

When we step in the elevator, Raven and I lean against opposite ends of the small space. After pressing the button to our floor, the doors close and we begin the ascent, never taking our eyes off one another.

My eyes trail down her body, heated—no mistake in what my gaze is conveying.

Raven brushes some of her dark hair off her shoulder, exposing the succulent hollow of her neck. When she sensually moves a leg forward, it lifts the hem of her dress, revealing part of her smooth leg and the heels that decorate her feet—black, with a gold snake that wraps delicately around her slim ankles.

I wet my lips at the sight. When we get home, I'm going to bend her over the edge of the mattress and fuck her in those heels.

"Luca—"My name is a purr on her gorgeous, red-stained lips.

I get one step towards her before the elevator dips and the doors open to reveal a man waiting to step on. He gives me a small smile when our eyes meet and I move slightly closer to Raven, putting myself between the two of them.

I observe him press the button for his floor—one above ours—and then he stands with his back towards us, watching the numbers rise as we begin to ascend once again. A flutter of unease ripples through me. Something isn't right about this guy.

The first thing that catches my interest is his suit—there are wrinkles on the edges of the collar of his shirt. The fabric, an inexpensive cotton that he probably purchased at the local retail store, sticks out like a sore thumb.

His haircut looks like he got it done at the mall. The edges aren't clean and I can see a few strands his hairdresser miraculously missed. Even his beard doesn't look good. It doesn't appear moisturized in any way, like he's never heard of or touched beard oil. That's what happens when you pay less than ten dollars for a service.

Even his dress shoes are faux leather. I can see the synthetic, odd texture to them. Mine are an expensive vegan leather and there's a good chance they're more than thirty times the cost of his.

He fidgets with his watch—clearly a knockoff Rolex. Not only is he cheap and has bad taste, but he's comfortable with portraying himself as someone he isn't. Wearing clothes that he believes makes him resemble someone with money. In reality, someone with cashflow—in other words, me—can spot the difference immediately.

It only makes him about as smooth and acrid as wine from a ten-dollar bottle that every single person in the ballroom would've spit out.

I know he's going to strike on us, I don't know when. It's been evident as fuck since he walked in here.

Not wanting Raven to get hurt in what's about to happen, I turn towards her, wrapping a hand around her waist to descend my mouth upon hers. She gasps, surprised as I grip the back of her head, her body melting into mine as I deepen the kiss, backing her up as I do so.

When her shoulders hit the elevator wall, the hand I had threaded in the hair at the base of her skull travels forward to her jaw, using a finger to tip her chin up so she can meet my height. I give her one final kiss, retracting to meet her eyes in a warning gaze.

She nods her head the slightest bit—only enough that I can barely see it myself—cradling my jaw in one hand to press her mouth to mine quickly.

Releasing her body, I adjust the rings on my fingers, ensuring the sharpest parts are facing outwards and then I spin on my heel to ram my fist into his cheek. However, he senses it, turning at the last moment to dodge my swing.

Stepping forward with all the power I can muster, I shove him up against the wall of the elevator, bringing my knee up into his stomach. He groans, instantly clutching his abdomen as he bends over. While he's attempting to soothe the ache, I raise my knee into his head, listening to the crack as my joint hits the cartilage of his nose.

Bending down, I reach into the pockets of his cheap ass suit, pulling out a switchblade. I then carefully pat along his body, checking for other weapons as he spits blood onto the flooring.

His blade in one hand, I use the other to grip his greasy hair, yanking his head back. When his watering eyes meet mine, I see the defiance in them, redness trickling to his open mouth. "You'll need to do better than that, yeah?"

"Fuck you," he grits.

My mouth twists into a smirk, "You're about to wish that's all I'd do to you."

Shoving him to the floor, I step over him to hit the emergency stop on the lift. Pulling my phone out, I dial Nero—my right hand man—not bothering to greet him. "Have someone get the room ready," I bark into the device. "And meet me at the elevator doors on the twenty-fifth floor."

As I tuck the phone back into my breast pocket, I glance down at the stranger. "Care to tell me your name, or would you rather I come up with one?" I raise an eyebrow, my expression unmoving. Waiting a minute or two, I hit the emergency button again so we continue our ascent to our designated floor.

He doesn't answer, crawling on his hands and knees to the corner, where he sits himself up, wiping away at the blood staining his lower face.

"How about Rooster, yeah? You're ugly like a cock and you look like you'd annoy the fuck out of me."

Raven chuckles behind me.

"So, we're in agreeance. Wonderful."

Arriving at the twenty-fifth floor, the doors open, revealing Nero and two men. The two men grab Rooster and I reach for Raven, interlacing our fingers to pull her down the hallway and the staircase, until we enter the parking garage.

We all quickly load into the car and Nero wastes no time in taking us back to one of our warehouses. The car ride is quiet and short, but there isn't much to say in the silence. Besides that, I need to focus on what I'm going to do with this man and whomever sent him.

I have an idea of who it is, but I need to be positive before anything is done about it. I don't do shit unless I'm certain. I don't fucking make mistakes.

Stepping into the room, the three men immediately straighten their spines, granting me respect. An invisible crown sits atop my head, something I've learned quickly to balance at every waking moment. I can't let it slip off.

I find the stranger from the elevator strapped to a chair. His hands are tied behind his back and his shins are roped to each leg of the chair.

I carefully remove the cuffs from my sleeves, handing them to Nero. After slipping off my jacket and handing that to him too, I begin to roll up my sleeves, exposing tattooed skin as I do so. As I straighten my rings again, ensuring the sharpest points are outwards to the knuckle, I make eye contact with the man sitting before me. "Fancy seeing you here, Rooster."

He doesn't speak. He only angles his head further back in defiance.

I close the distance between us, taking four steps in his direction. "Are you gonna' tell me what I want or am I gonna' have to ruin this shirt?"

He says nothing.

"It was an expensive suit. It'd be a shame to ruin it, honestly."

Widening my stance, I swing an arm back, my hand flying towards him where my fist connects with his cheek. The sound echoes through the space, more blood flying from his mouth as it sprays and he groans out in pain.

Immediately my fist aches, but I'm pleased to see the rings have made multiple gashes in his skin.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, and opens it again, looking like a tiny-brained, half dead fish. "The fuck was that for?"

Really? This dude is a fucking moron. His family tree probably looks more like a wreath.

I have no doubt he'll tell me what I need to know. In fact, I'll bet it won't take more than five punches for him to spit it out. Even a trapped animal will chew off its own leg to get out of a trap.

"Just tell me who sent you, Rooster."

He avoids my gaze, staring off at the wall.

I throw another punch, this one with more force to show him that the first was only me warming up. "I'm not fuckin' around, mate. You can make this so much easier on yourself."

Another punch.

Nothing.

"You're kidding yourself if you think someone's gonna' save you for your loyalty." I lean in close to him, whispering like the devil on his shoulder, "If you held any importance, I guarantee that someone would've already tried coming to get you."

He clenches his eyes shut tight. I think what I've said has gotten to him. For real? Only three fucking punches? This must be some new record.

"It was Kasimir. He—Kash sent me."

It's an insidious answer, settling like acid in my lungs. Of course, it was him. Who else would it be?

"That wasn't so hard, yeah?" As I ask the question, I grip his jaw painfully, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Who? Me or her?"

"Both," he manages to utter. "He told me to kill both of you."

"Tell me where the fuck he's hiding." My eyes flash across his face, noticing the visible bend in his now broken nose. The thing is crooked like a motherfucker.

"At a house on Bridge Street."

My grip tightens and he winces in pain. "You're sure?" I growl, my teeth clenching together.

"Yeah, yeah!" He wiggles, presumably in an attempt to get away from me. "I just came from there. He's got about a dozen men."

"Only a dozen?" I raise an eyebrow. With how blatant he's become, I thought he would've had more to back up that ego. Twelve men is nothing I can't handle. Fuck, I could do it alone. No fucking problem.

He tries his best to shake his head, my grip on his jaw so tight that he struggles to do so. "I was the thirteenth."

"How much did he give you?"

"He said ten a head—"

"Thousand?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I needed the money, I—My wife, she—" He tries to say something else, but I shut him up by digging my fingernails into his cheeks.

I really don't give a fuck.

"Shut up," I bark, "Before I cut your fuckin' tongue out of your mouth and make you." To make my point, I squeeze extra hard, forcing his mouth open as if I'm about to do what I said.

His eyes go wide. He understands.

Letting go of him, I take a step back and move to leave the room. Two steps from the door, I speak to all of them, "Kill him," and exit.

I meet Raven in the entry, entwining our hands together recklessly, not bothered by the fact that I'm holding her with my bloodied one and staining her clean hands.

They're only pure in appearance, not in reality.

By the time Raven and I make it back to the car, Nero—who would've been directing soldiers to do as they're told—jogs to catch up. He hops in the driver's seat, with Raven and I in the back, and we speed to our destination.

Pulling up to Kash's, I give my soldiers a game plan and then I lead the pack of us in. Nero trails at the back and Raven—still in her gown—stands beside me, her own pistol between her manicured hands. However, though I don't want her here for obvious reasons, she refuses, but at least she stays guarded behind me like I've requested.

I prepare myself, cocking my pistol as we enter the house. Immediately, we spot three men and with three bullets, I've dropped them to the ground. The one man falls in the doorway and I'm forced to step over him, having to help Raven to do so as well.

In the process of killing the men upon entering, the both of us have been sprayed with the blood of one of the dead men. The red matches her lipstick and it's like some fucked up painting all over her beautiful face.

The rest of my men scatter the house and I hear the odd shot echo throughout the halls. Just as Raven is taking her final step over the dead body, while avoiding the blood, I hear a footstep behind me.

Before I can react, Raven raises her gun, fires a single round and kills the man.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I lead her towards a narrow and long hallway. Slowly, we make our way down it, making it about ten steps before I notice a shadow from the one doorway. I still for a moment, listening for any noise and then take a delicate pace to him.

At the last second, he pops his head out and I fire a bullet between his eyes.

"Fuck, Brett!" A whispered voice faintly makes its way to us and I take position, aiming my weapon towards the noise. Two squeaks of shoes walking closer and then a shadow darkening the floor.

I creep along the opposing wall until I'm able to get a proper look at the room to find one man standing over the dead guy, checking for a pulse. He doesn't even realize I'm standing there, dying instantly once my fired bullet pierces his brain through the side of his head.

As he falls, I hear Raven catch up to me. I look towards the double doors, where Kash surely is hiding. At this point, there's no way he hasn't heard some of the gun shots. I wouldn't be surprised if he's waiting with a weapon drawn.

However, he should know better than to aim anything at me.

Before entering, Nero approaches us from behind and I look to Raven, "Go with Nero, Angel."

She huffs, not pleased with the sound of that.

I cup her jaw, forcing her to meet my eyes. "You know what Kash is like—he's unpredictable. If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. I'm not asking, Raven."

"I know," she replies softly.

I press a kiss to her mouth, happy when she relents and doesn't put up a fight, going with Nero towards the front of the house. He'll set her up with a few soldiers to keep her safe out there while I deal with the problem that awaits behind one last barrier.

Pushing open the large, wooden doors, I shove them until their knobs break through the surface of the walls behind them. I'm alone, but so is he, and I know I'm a hell of a lot better shot than him. In every fucking aspect.

Surprisingly, he doesn't appear to be carrying a weapon, but that doesn't mean he hasn't hidden one on his person in an attempt to surprise me at the last minute. As I said to Raven, he's unpredictable. But unpredictable is still predictable in some sense. You know to expect something, you just have to observe to figure it out.

"Kermit," I greet with a fake smile, knowing the nickname will irritate the fuck out of him.

"How'd you get in here?" He clenches his jaw, reaching a hand backwards towards a bookshelf that he surely has a weapon hidden inside.

I yell out for him to stop and he freezes. "Don't bother, you're wasting your time." I clench the gun in my hand, and he glances down at it momentarily.

"How'd you get through my security?"

"I killed them all."

He seems surprised. "For a fuckin' pig, you sure don't have many hang ups when it comes to killing people without due cause."

"I was a cop, Kash. I'm not anymore."

"Once a cop, always a cop," he clears his throat noisily to spit up a visible piece of phlegm at my feet in disgust.

"Yet I am where I am, and you are where you are. I'm at the top, where'd you end up?"

He clenches his fist at his side, hilariously looking like that Arthur meme. "Not atop a mountain of bodies and bones."

I throw my head back in condescending laughter, "That's what you've led yourself to believe."

"Just get it over with, Luca."

A moment of silence falls amongst us and I stare down at his hand—to the area where he's missing two digits. Fingers that I removed at Don Cain's request before I became the Don. "Would you rather I cut off another finger? If I did, who'd get your girlfriend off, yeah?"

"Fuck you," he growls, just like Rooster.

I smile, not in a genuine way, but more like that of a triumphant lion, the moment before he strikes on a wounded gazelle. Kasimir is stuck. This is it. His terror over my life ends here. His terror over Raven's life ends here.

The image of her wrist—adorned with a ring of purple and blue bruises, like some fucked up bracelet—flashes in my mind. He gripped Raven so hard that he injured her and that alone, makes me want to draw out the switchblade I stole from Rooster, drag it up Kermit's arms and legs, and leave him to bleed out.

"Cain, Leo—they were wrong for letting you into the Brooks family."

"That's something we agree on."

There's some scuffle outside the room and Nero steps in, appearing like he hasn't just helped me kill a dozen men. He takes one glance between Kash and myself, "We've got one minute before cleanup."

Kash panics, beginning to scramble for the door. However, he makes it one single step before I raise my arm and pull the trigger. With one bullet, he falls to the floor in a heap—a hole created in the side of his head, right above his ear, exactly where I aimed.

I straighten my white dress shirt, the expensive fabric now stained with the blood of multiple men. I give it a moment for the chamber of my pistol to cool before tucking it in the waistband at my back. By the time I'm moving to leave the room, the cleanup crew steps into the room.

One of the guys slips in Kash's blood, nearly falling on his ass.

As I exit the house, I find Raven standing just outside, some blood still splattered on her beautiful face. Her eyes, like a stormy ocean, meet mine.

My hands are still stained with redness, but I grab her jaw in my hand to give her an open-mouthed, hungry kiss. Her mouth tastes of vodka and violence, and it only fuels me further.

I gently grab her wrist in my hand, softly ghosting the tips of my fingers over the fading bruises. Lifting her arm, I tenderly press a kiss to the purple and blue.

"I love you," she breathes, reuniting our mouths.

As we head home, I send her inside, taking a moment to think outside. I walk to the edge of the pond in the back, lighting up a cigarette as I stare out over the water. After a few minutes, and several drags on the cigarette, I kill it under the red sole of my dress shoe.

When the sound of a crow cawing echoes around me, I turn to find seven of them circling around the water.

Before heading inside, I take a final glance at the lotus flower that has bloomed on the far edge of the pond.

Nobody fucks with Don Moreno.