Chapter 10 – No Mercy, No Surrender

Morning sunlight barely touched the city, but Luciano was already awake, standing by the window of his penthouse, watching the streets below with cold, calculating eyes. His suit was black. No tie. No pretense. Today wasn't about business. Today was about blood.

Marco sat on the leather couch, loading magazines with the calm precision of a man who had done this a hundred times. Sergio leaned against the bar, cleaning his rifle, eyes sharp and restless. Valentina was at the corner, checking her gear, her face expressionless but her fingers twitching like she was hungry for war.

Ariana sat quietly by the kitchen island, sipping coffee she couldn't taste, her hands shaking just slightly. She wasn't sure if it was from fear or from adrenaline. Probably both. She'd barely slept. The memory of the attack, of being hunted inside this very room, still haunted her. But looking at Luciano… something shifted inside her. He wasn't just a billionaire. He wasn't just a mafia boss. He was a storm wrapped in silk and steel. Dangerous. Beautiful. Unstoppable.

Luciano finally turned away from the window. His voice was low, lethal. "This ends today."

Marco grinned. "About damn time."

Sergio stood, sliding a fresh magazine into his rifle. "Tell me we're doing this loud."

"No," Luciano said, walking over to the table where blueprints were spread out. "Not loud. Smart. Precise. Giovanni thinks he's safe because he's surrounded by walls, by soldiers, by money. But walls can crumble. Men can bleed. Money burns."

Valentina stepped forward. "Where is he?"

Luciano tapped a spot on the map. "His private villa. Outside the city. Gated. Patrolled. Armored vehicles. But there's a flaw."

Sergio smirked. "There's always a flaw."

Luciano pointed. "A service tunnel. Originally built as an escape route. Giovanni thinks no one knows about it. He's wrong."

Marco whistled low. "We go through there?"

"Exactly." Luciano's eyes sharpened. "We breach from underneath. Silent. Surgical. No one escapes. Not him. Not his lieutenants. Not his guards."

"And if they fight?" Valentina asked.

Luciano's jaw tightened. "Then we bury them."

Ariana stood, hesitant but determined. "What do you need me to do?"

Luciano walked over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, fingers lingering on her cheek longer than they should have. His voice softened. "Stay here. Stay safe."

Her lips trembled. "I don't want to just sit and—"

He silenced her with a look. Not harsh. Protective. Intense. "Ariana... if anything happens to you because of me... I won't forgive myself."

Her chest tightened. She wanted to fight. To argue. But looking into his eyes, she realized... this wasn't just about pride. This was about survival. And about him trying to shield the one person left who made him feel something other than rage.

"Promise me," she whispered, "you come back."

Luciano leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice was a whisper only for her. "I swear... I'm coming back."

Three hours later, darkness swallowed the entrance to Giovanni's villa. The team slipped through the tunnel—silent, invisible. Every step was a countdown to violence.

The tunnel ended beneath the wine cellar. Marco slid the hatch open, scanning with his pistol. "Clear."

They moved fast. Up the stairs. Into the hallway. Two guards. Silent shots—both fell before they could speak. Every room was cleared with lethal efficiency.

Luciano moved like a phantom, every step precise. His mind was a razor's edge, focused on one thing.

Giovanni.

They reached the main hall. Eight guards. Sergio tossed a flash grenade. Boom—light exploded. Confusion. Shouts.

By the time the light faded, five guards were already dead. Marco dropped the sixth with a headshot. Valentina put a bullet through the spine of the seventh. Luciano walked straight up to the eighth as the man tried to crawl away... and shot him in the back of the head without a word.

The double doors to Giovanni's office loomed ahead.

Luciano kicked them open.

Giovanni stood behind his desk, pistol in hand, face pale but sneering. "You... you think you can just walk in here?!"

Luciano stepped forward, gun raised. "I don't think. I know."

Giovanni fired. Missed.

Luciano didn't.

One shot.

Giovanni staggered as the bullet shattered his knee. He collapsed, screaming, the gun clattering from his hand.

Luciano walked around the desk, slow, deliberate. "You made one mistake, Giovanni."

"Go to hell—"

Luciano kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling. He knelt, gripping Giovanni's jaw, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"You came after someone I care about."

Giovanni's eyes widened. For the first time... there was fear.

"No mercy," Luciano whispered. "No surrender."

The final shot echoed through the villa.

It was over.

Giovanni Costa was dead.

Luciano stood, letting the gun fall to his side. His men silently watched, waiting for orders.

"Burn it," Luciano said coldly. "All of it."

The villa went up in flames behind them as they walked away, the fire lighting the night like a signal to the entire city.

There was a new king now.

And his name was Luciano De Luca.