Lucius stopped in his tracks, standing just a few steps away from Fabio, who was bound tightly to a pole in the dimly lit warehouse. The ropes cut into Fabio's wrists, and a fresh trail of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth—a souvenir from Zayne's fist earlier.
"You tricked me," Fabio growled, his voice laced with both anger and desperation as he struggled against the restraints.
Lucius tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Tricked you?" he chuckled. "That's how Mafias do business, Fabio. Your father failed to teach you the most important lesson—trust is a luxury you can't afford in this world."
Fabio let out a bitter laugh, though it was edged with pain. "I should've killed that bastard when I had the chance," he muttered to himself before meeting Lucius's cold gaze again. "But you won't kill me, will you? What would your precious family think if they knew their beloved Lucius was nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer?"