The bar was loud, filled with smoke and laughter, the air heavy with alcohol and perfume. Women danced on the poles, some half-naked, others crawling across men's laps for tips. It wasn't a place for saints, but it was a perfect hiding spot for devils.
Luca sat in the corner booth, his men spread around him. He wasn't drinking—just sitting back with a cigarette between his fingers, eyes scanning the room like a predator waiting for prey.
The owner of the bar walked toward him with a sly smile. He was older, slick in his dark suit, and carried himself with the arrogance of a man who knew too much.
"Vincenzo Moretti," Luca said coldly, without standing.
"Long time no see, friend," Vincenzo replied smoothly.
"Friend?" Luca smirked, blowing smoke in his direction. "Says a man who's plotting with my enemies to kill me."
Vincenzo chuckled, shaking his head. "Me? I would never. I know you're a pain in the ass, Luca, but I can't waste you. Trust me—you should be more worried about the men who call themselves your soldiers than about me."
Luca didn't answer. He just leaned back, silent, but his mind was working. Vincenzo was right. The enemies were already around him, breathing his air, hiding in his own shadow. Betrayal didn't come from strangers—it came from the ones closest.
Before he could say more, a woman approached. She swayed her hips, eyes locked on him like he was her only target. She crawled up into his lap with a slow smile.
"Aria Moretti," Luca muttered under his breath. Vincenzo's younger sister.
"Baby… it's been a long time," she purred, her hand running across his chest, her voice dripping with seduction.
Vincenzo smirked from the side. He knew his sister was one of Luca's old favorites. He also knew Luca never used to resist her.
Aria leaned close, her lips brushing his neck, her tongue teasing his skin. "I heard you've got yourself a girl. Tell me… does she fuck you better than I do?" she whispered mockingly, her hand sliding boldly to his crotch. "I fucking miss you."
Luca looked down at her hand, then at her face. His smirk was sharp, dangerous. He shoved her off his lap so hard she landed on the floor. Both she and Vincenzo froze in shock.
"My girl is not a pussy," Luca said coldly, leaning forward. "And she will never be one." His voice dropped lower, darker. "And secondly…" he crouched to her level on the floor, his eyes burning into hers, "…only my dick decides who fucks better."
Aria's lips curled into a sly smile as she licked them slowly. "Then why don't you fuck me again to confirm it?"
Luca laughed, but it wasn't joy—it was madness. He yanked her by the hair, forcing her head back, and crushed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss, so rough it bruised. His teeth scraped her mouth before he pulled away, spitting his disgust.
"Even your lips disgust me now," he sneered. "I wonder how much more irritating the rest of you would feel." He shoved her back to the floor like she was nothing.
Straightening, he turned to Vincenzo, who still had that mocking little smile.
"If I find out you're one of my enemies, I will chop you apart piece by piece," Luca said, his voice smooth, almost casual. "I'll start with your organs—one after another—and still keep you alive to watch yourself rot."
With that, he walked out, his men following like shadows.
Mattheo's Mansion
Without warning, Luca walked straight into Mattheo's house. He didn't knock. He didn't ask. He entered like he owned the place.
Mattheo looked up from his chair, surprised to see him. Viet wasn't home.
"Well, look who we have here," Mattheo said, his tone mocking.
"Keep your fuck to yourself," Luca replied flatly, lighting another cigarette. "I'm here for business."
"Business?" Mattheo scoffed. "I don't want anything to do with your mafia bullshit."
"I don't need a coward in my world," Luca shot back with a smirk.
Mattheo narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"
Luca exhaled smoke slowly. "I'm leaving the country. I can't keep Mia alone with my men—I don't trust any of them. So I want you to take care of her."
Mattheo blinked, then burst into laughter. He leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You don't trust your own men, yet you keep them around? I told you before, your mafia world is bullshit. It's only going to get you killed."
"Killed?" Luca tilted his head, his smirk curling darker. "I wish they could. Because I won't stop until I find the trafficker who killed my sister." His voice cracked slightly, bitterness heavy in every word.
Mattheo's face softened. "Luca… it was a long time ago. Let it go. You're not the only one who lost her. She was my sister too."
Luca's smirk grew, sharp and cruel. "Only cowards forgive and forget, Mattheo. You're just like Mom—a coward who let a man beat her until her last breath."
That snapped something in Mattheo. Rage flashed across his face as he grabbed Luca by the collar and snarled, "Don't you ever talk about Mom like that."
But Luca only smiled. "The truth is always bitter. She could've run away with us when Father wasn't home. But she stayed. She endured. She suffered. So tell me, isn't that the definition of a coward?"
That was the last straw. Mattheo punched him hard across the face. Blood sprayed from Luca's lip as he stumbled back.
"Don't you dare speak about our mother like that," Mattheo shouted, chest heaving.
Luca straightened slowly, wiping the blood from his mouth. Then—he laughed. A broken laugh, mixed with tears. Real tears slipped down his cheeks. He could act strong all he wanted, but deep down he was still just a broken boy—one who missed his sister, one who still loved his mother.
"Fuck…" he muttered, his voice raw. He turned to leave, then stopped at the doorway, not looking back.
"I'm leaving Mia with you. Bring her here. I'm going hunting. I won't be back for a long time. Don't let her escape."
Without another word, he walked out, leaving silence behind him.
Mattheo sat there, his hand still trembling from the punch. He regretted hitting his brother, but the truth was—it wasn't Luca he hated. It was the pain they both carried, the past that neither of them could escape.