LUCA'S POV
My eyes throbbed under the weight of the dim, flickering light above.
My wrists burned—bound behind a rusted chair for what felt like days. Time had blurred into pain. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and rusted metal. I could barely breathe. My shirt clung to my skin, soaked in sweat and streaked with blood. My jaw pulsed from the blow of a rifle butt, still echoing like thunder in my skull.
Metal. Blood. That's all I could taste.
But all I could think of… was her.
Rose.
The last time I saw her—her eyes were wide, tear-streaked, pleading. She begged me to listen. To believe her.
And I didn't.
I threw her away like she meant nothing.
Even though she was everything.
My chest rose and fell in jagged breaths as I tried to move, but pain snapped through my ribs. I was broken. I knew that. And maybe… I deserved it.
"Still breathing, cousin?"
That voice. I'd know that poison anywhere.
Moga.
She strode into the room like death itself, heels clicking on the concrete floor like a countdown. Her eyes glittered with cruel delight, her smile razor-sharp. She wore black again—fitted leather jacket, combat boots, her red hair twisted into a bun, with loose strands like serpents framing her face.
She crouched to meet my eyes, voice like silk soaked in venom.
"Oh, don't waste your energy. You're going to need it."
I growled. "Where is she?"
She tilted her head. "Who?"
"You know damn well who. Rose."
Moga stood and turned. Then she snapped her fingers.
And they brought her in.
Rose.
My heart stopped.
She was barely conscious—dragged like a rag doll. Her head hung forward, hair matted with blood. Her wrists were shackled behind her. One eye was swollen shut, her lips cracked and dry.
"ROSE!" I screamed.
She flinched—just barely.
I fought the ropes like a man possessed. The stab wound in my side tore open again, but I didn't care. All I saw was her.
"Let her go, you sick bitch!"
Moga ran a finger down Rose's cheek, eyes still locked on mine.
"I promised I'd make your father pay," she said quietly. "But then… I saw you. His golden boy. His heir. So perfect. So... breakable."
She sneered.
"And then you went and fell in love. How tragic.
Images slammed into me like a car crash.
A burning vehicle. A child screaming. Blood. Flames. The warped sound of metal folding in on itself. My father's hand tightening on the wheel as he stared ahead, unblinking.
My voice cracked. "You... you were in that car."
Her mouth curved into a sick smile.
"Seventeen years ago. Our last family trip before moving to Italy. But your father made sure we never got there."
She stepped aside.
Rose was chained to a steel pole now, her head bowed.
"You're going to watch her," Moga whispered, "just like I watched them."
Tears burned behind my eyes. "Moga, please. She's innocent."
"So was I, Luca!" she snapped, voice breaking. "I was a child! I watched my father twitch before he died. My mother bleed out—pregnant. And your father drove away without a second glance."
Silence crashed between us.
Then Rose whimpered. Weak. Barely audible.
Moga walked to a metal tray. Picked up a long, serrated knife.
My heart nearly stopped.
"Moga, please… don't."
She tossed a folder at my feet. It spilled open.
"Chicago estate. Manhattan. Offshore accounts. Sign it all over, let's start from these ones for now. Or I'll cut her apart—one slice at a time."
I looked at the papers. At the pen.
At Rose.
I didn't have a choice.
But it didn't feel like one anyway.
My vision blurred as my hand hovered over the pen.
One signature.
That's all it would take. Everything my family built—gone.
But none of that mattered now.
Only she mattered.
Only Rose.
She was still breathing—barely. Her shirt torn, shoulder exposed, skin smeared with blood.
My fingers moved toward the pen…
Then paused.
Something inside me hesitated. Maybe pride. Maybe fear or the fight still burning in my blood.
And that second—that heartbeat of doubt—
Cost us everything.
Moga didn't flinch. Didn't say a word.
She grabbed Rose by the hair. Lifted her head.
And sliced.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Her scream shattered the room.
It ripped through me like fire.
"NO!" I roared, straining against the ropes. Wood cracked. My wrists tore. Blood ran down my arms. I didn't stop.
"Let her go! Don't touch her!"
Rose collapsed forward. Blood dripped from her arm, thick and red. The wound was brutal—meant to punish, not kill.
Not yet.
Moga turned. Licked the blade clean like a savage.
"Still holding out for Daddy's legacy?" she sneered. "Is it worth her pain?"
I snarled through gritted teeth. "You're a goddamn monster."
She laughed. The sound chilled me to my bones.
"MOGA!" I screamed. "I swear to God, I'll end you!"
She grabbed my face in her glove-covered hand, squeezing until my jaw ached.
"No, sweetheart," she whispered, "you're paying now. Every scream is your punishment. You let love in. And in our world? That's your greatest sin."
I spat in her face.
She slapped me. Hard. My vision spun. Pain exploded in my cheek.
Rose whimpered again.
"I'll kill you," I croaked. "Even if it's the last thing I do."
Moga wiped her cheek and looked at Rose like she was already a corpse.
"Then I'd better make sure it is your last thing."
She walked to the door.
"Start the camera," she told her men. "I want Dubious to feel what I felt. Watching the people you love scream."
The door slammed.
And I was left… broken. Helpless.
Bleeding.
I stared at Rose.
Her breath was shallow. Her skin pale.
"Hold on, baby," I whispered, yanking at the ropes. "Just hold on. I'm coming. I swear to you—I'm coming."
This time…
I won't be too late.
What would you do if you were in Luca's shoes?🥰🥰