Luis sat in the back of the luxury car, his anger rising with every passing second. The lights outside flashed across his twisted face, half in the darkness, the other half illuminated by bursts of passing streetlights. He looked like a demon out for blood. Marcel's, to be exact.
Marcel. Always Marcel. He had never once given him a good face, never once treated him as an equal. From the day Marcel was dragged into their house, he carried himself with that cold, indifferent look, as though he were above everyone else. Luis loathed him, the hatred engraved in his bones.
At seventeen, he was being gifted sports cars, money, and homes like a child being cajoled. But by fifteen, Marcel was already in executive meetings, being involved in company affairs, and sent on tasks. When he asked his mother for help, she would tell him not to worry about these things and to go hang out with his friends.
When Marcel left the family, Luis was ready to prove himself. It turns out he was wrong. His father still asked about Marcel's whereabouts. He even sent men to track him down, and despite them severing ties, he wanted him to do the jobs that mattered.
"Fuck!" Luis swore as he punched the air. "I fucking hate him!" The driver stiffened, staring straight ahead, trying to shrink his presence. Luis' cell phone vibrated on the seat where he had casually tossed it. He picked it up with a look of irritation on his face, but when he saw it, he gritted his teeth and answered.
---
On the massive grounds of the Verrochi family estate, a loud bang startled the birds in nearby trees. Rossario Verrochi lowered his shotgun with a satisfied smile. Shattered pieces of the clay pigeon rained down on the well-maintained lawn. A whimper came from behind him. Rossario turned to look at the man kneeling with his hands in cuffs. The man was already unpleasant to look at, but after the beating that left his face bruised and his nose crooked, he was even more unsightly.
The man desperately begged for mercy, his voice cracked. The snort and tears on his face made Rossario feel disgusted. He stared at him coldly and said, "Too noisy." His henchman reacted instantly. He pulled on the man's tie and shoved it inside the man's mouth. His desperate pleas were muffled. He shivered like a leaf, fearing he might lose his life today.
When Rossario's phone rang. He motioned to his personal assistant, who brought him his earphones. He put them in his ear and tapped one of them to answer the call. While adjusting the shotgun on his shoulder, he asked, "Did he accept the job?"
"He… he just said he will call you," Luis replied, the hesitation in his voice evident.
Marcel's response was as expected. It didn't take him much to convince that greedy bastard to hand over his daughter's ashes. He knew that Marcel wouldn't be able to resist. He smiled evilly as he raised his shotgun. His eyes zeroed in on the target launched in the air, and with a resounding bang, the clay pigeon exploded into tiny pieces.
The sound of the shot came through the call, and Luis trembled subconsciously. His father always seemed more easygoing than his grandfather, but Rossario terrified him more.
Rossario reloaded the shotgun while saying, "You did well," his tone hard to discern.
Luis was displeased that his father had to hunt Marcel down for this job when he was readily available. Thus, despite his fear of his father, he said, "Father… why him? Why not send me to get the jo-," his tone the least bit confident.
Rossario's face changed, the anger in his voice evident. "Don't interfere in this matter, do you understand?"
Luis's chest rose and fell in anger. The resentment he had restrained for years was on the verge of bursting. In their circles, everyone flattered him. He was the rich, spoiled young master who couldn't be offended. But when he wasn't there, they mocked him, calling him a useless pampered playboy. Even when they didn't say it to his face, he could see it in their eyes.
It didn't bother him at first. It was only when he heard what they thought of Marcel that he lost it. Years ago, he had eavesdropped on the girl he was pursuing. She told her friend that the only reason she hung around him was that she could see Marcel. Even if it was just a glance, it was enough to satisfy her. The words cut deep like a blade was being driven straight into his heart. He hated him so much that it was incredibly difficult to hide it, thus they clashed whenever they met.
Rossario calmed down instantly. His voice softened to a degree as he said, "For the next couple of weeks, take your mother and sister to relax. I will send you as much money as you need."
Luis wanted to keep arguing, but he was afraid of his father's retaliation, so he could only swallow down his grievances and reply, "Okay, I was thinking maybe we should go to Lumora." It was a private island resort they visited often, and his mother loved that tranquil place.
Rossario had a satisfied smile on his face as he replied. "Remember what I told you earlier. Don't breathe a word about this to your grandfather."
"I remember, I won't say a word," he said, and he didn't even question his father on why the secrecy. That's because he had long noticed that his father and grandfather were constantly clashing on how to run things.
After hanging up the call, Rossario aimed at the launched clay pigeon and pulled the trigger again. This time he missed his target, and with a tsk, he turned back facing the man who was trembling in fear on his knees. He nudged his head, and the henchmen took out the tie from the man's mouth with a look of disgust on his face. He tossed the tie covered in saliva and blood on the ground and stood by.
He smiled like a predator with his prey in his grasp as he said, "Ready to talk?"
The man who was afraid of dying and his body vanishing off the face of this world, leaving no trace, nodded vigorously. He was ready to spill all the details he knew about the Castel hilltop mansion. His godfather was a butler at this estate, and he had visited countless times. If he only knew that giving up this information would lead to a fate far worse than death, he would have kept his mouth shut.
Meanwhile, Luis was seething in rage inside the car. He had agreed to stay out of it, but he had had enough. As his grandfather said, if he wanted something, he would have to grab it by the balls. His plan was simple. He was going to ruin Marcel's plans and make him fail. He wanted to see that iceberg face crack and show real emotion.
What he didn't realize was that Marcel was only like this in front of the Verrochi family. To those he was close with, he was utterly different.
---
Vernon Maximum Security Prison
Inside a dark cell in a segregated block, a figure sat on the bed, legs crossed, and his eyes closed. His aura was heavy and suffocating. It was like being in the presence of a confined beast lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. The darkness itself sent chills into one's soul like they had stepped into the depths of hell.
A prison guard cautiously walked towards the cell, his steps clinking as he walked. He approached the door of the cell and opened the small window, every muscle in his body tense. He trembled in fear while asking himself why he had been the one chosen to do this task. Why did he have to be the one to face this demon?
The so-called demon came out from the shadows. His dark and menacing eyes looked through the small window as though he was looking right into the man's soul. The prison guard froze, mesmerized by that handsome face. If anyone said he was a devil in human skin, luring them with his face to snatch their souls, he would believe it. He had sharp and defined features; his firm jawline was softened by the light stubble on his chin.
AN: Let me know what you guys think. See you tomorrow.