Chapter 6 – Blood, Loyalty, and Betrayal

The war room inside the De Luca estate buzzed with controlled tension. Maps, screens, and dossiers were spread across the polished oak table. Every dot marked an enemy. Every line traced power, money, or death.

Luciano stood at the head, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, revealing the inked crest of the De Luca family wrapped around his forearm—a lion crowned with a blade through its mouth.

The room was silent as he paced.

"We have two fronts," Luciano began. "The first is Petrov and the Russians. The second... the Grimaldis in Zurich."

He tapped the map of Europe. "They fund Petrov. They support Giovanni. Cut the Grimaldis' influence, and the Russians fold. Giovanni becomes a drowning rat."

Sergio, arms crossed, grinned. "And rats drown easy."

Ariana sat quietly to the side, still new to this world but already adapting faster than anyone expected. Her laptop sat open, fingers typing as she pulled up encrypted accounts, ownership records, and dark web communications.

Luciano's gaze shifted to her. "What's the update on the Zurich accounts?"

Ariana cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses. "It wasn't easy, but... I found something."

She turned the screen to face everyone. "There's a private bank in Zurich—small, exclusive, off the books for regular governments. It holds the Grimaldi family's emergency funds. Billions. Untouchable... unless you know the backdoor."

Marco leaned forward. "And you found it?"

"I found the lock," Ariana admitted. "But not the key. Not yet."

Luciano smirked. "Then we find someone who has it."

---

Meanwhile – The Snake Plots

Across the city, Giovanni Costa paced inside his lavish office, marble floors cold beneath his polished shoes. His phone buzzed on the table.

"Speak," he snapped.

A gruff Russian voice replied, "Your De Luca boy... he's cleaning house faster than expected."

Giovanni gritted his teeth. "Then accelerate the plan. I want Luciano gone before the week ends."

"Risky," the voice replied. "He's guarded. Tightly."

"Then make it messy. Make it loud. I don't care if the whole city burns, as long as he dies."

Silence.

Then, the Russian responded coldly, "As you wish."

Giovanni ended the call, staring out his window, fist clenched. His smile curved cruelly.

"Enjoy your little throne while it lasts, Luciano."

---

The Grimaldi Offer – Devil's Bargain

Back at the penthouse, Luciano received an encrypted message.

> Sender: Unknown. Zurich.

Subject: Proposal.

"Let's not pretend we don't know the game. The Grimaldis are willing to talk. Alone. Discreet. No blood… for now."

Luciano's eyes narrowed.

Cowards. They knew the pressure was mounting.

"Is this real?" Ariana asked, reading over his shoulder.

Luciano nodded. "It's real. And dangerous."

"You're not going... are you?"

He turned to her, holding her gaze. "Of course I'm going."

"But—"

Luciano placed a hand on her shoulder, firm but reassuring. "This is how wars are won, Ariana. Not just with bullets. With fear... with leverage... with knowing when to smile before cutting their throat."

Ariana swallowed. "And what if it's a trap?"

Luciano smirked. "Then I spring it."

---

Zurich – Meeting the Devil

Two days later, a private jet touched down on Zurich's icy runway. Luciano stepped out, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, long black coat swaying in the wind. Beside him, Sergio adjusted his holster beneath his jacket, ever ready.

"Stay sharp," Luciano muttered.

"Always," Sergio replied.

The rendezvous was set at a private alpine chalet overlooking Lake Zurich—luxurious, remote, and perfect for business... or murder.

Inside, seated by a fireplace, was Dante Grimaldi, patriarch of the Grimaldi empire. Thin, pale, silver-haired, but with eyes like a serpent—cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of morality.

"Ah, young De Luca," Dante smiled, spreading his hands. "Come. Sit. Let's talk like gentlemen."

Luciano sat, crossing one leg over the other, posture relaxed but lethal. "Cut the theatrics, Dante. You asked for this meeting. Talk."

Dante chuckled softly. "Straight to the point. Good. The Russians are... problematic. Giovanni is... unpredictable."

"You don't say," Luciano deadpanned.

Dante leaned forward. "I propose a trade. You back off from our Zurich accounts. In return... we pull support from Petrov and Giovanni."

Luciano's eyes sharpened. "And why would I trust a snake to keep its word?"

"Because, dear boy... even snakes know when the fire is too close."

Silence stretched.

Then Luciano's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "No."

Dante blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You think I flew all the way to Zurich to negotiate?" Luciano stood. "No. I came to warn you."

Dante's brow furrowed. "Warn me?"

Luciano leaned forward, voice dropping to a cold whisper. "Your secret Swiss accounts? Your safe houses? Your backup plan? As of an hour ago... they no longer exist."

Dante's face paled. "You're bluffing."

Luciano pulled his phone, tapped a button, and turned the screen toward Dante. A live video feed played—men storming a Grimaldi warehouse in Spain. Another clip showed funds being drained, account balances flashing zero.

Dante staggered back, gripping the chair. "No... impossible..."

Luciano's smile vanished, his voice turning razor sharp. "Pull your support. Or I will erase everything you've ever built."

Dante stared, breath shaking. "You're your father's son... and worse."

Luciano's eyes glinted. "Worse... and better."

---

Back in Palermo – Fire Erupts

While Luciano dismantled the Grimaldi financial web, Giovanni struck.

At midnight, three SUV convoys rolled into a De Luca-owned nightclub.

Gunmen stormed the building—shots fired, windows shattered, customers screaming as bullets tore through the marble floors and velvet walls.

Marco was on site.

The moment gunfire erupted, Marco flipped the poker table, grabbed his twin pistols, and returned fire with brutal precision. "Get down! Everyone down!"

Guards flooded in, weapons drawn. Blood splattered across the walls. Bodies fell on both sides.

Giovanni's message was clear.

"I'm not done yet."

---

The War Has Begun

By dawn, twenty-three were dead.

Ten De Luca men. Thirteen mercenaries tied to Petrov.

Luciano returned to Palermo, stepping off the plane to the smell of smoke and the wail of distant sirens.

Marco greeted him at the tarmac, bloodstained, jacket torn, but alive. "It's started."

Luciano's jaw tightened. "Then we finish it."

Ariana waited nearby, anxiety written across her face. "How bad...?"

Luciano pulled her close—an instinctive, protective gesture—and whispered, "Bad. But not for us."

His eyes turned toward the horizon.

"For them."