Chapter 15 – A Lion Cornered

The click of safeties being switched off echoed in the steel and concrete chamber. Red laser dots danced across Luciano's chest, neck, and forehead. Dozens of guns aimed directly at him. His grip on his pistol tightened, but his brain raced faster than his pulse.

A single pull of the trigger could end Moretti, but it would also end him.

Victor Moretti lay on the floor, clutching his bleeding leg, grinning through clenched teeth. "I told you, De Luca... you were never ready to play at my level."

Luciano's eyes burned with cold fury. He slowly raised his hands, keeping the gun pointed downward but ready—just in case. His gaze swept the room, memorizing every exit, every gunman, every obstacle between him and survival.

Behind the line of armed men, a new figure emerged. Tall. Clean-shaven. Grey suit. A scar sliced down the left side of his face.

Luciano's jaw locked. He knew that face.

Dante Vescari. A former ally. Once a trusted friend of the De Luca family... now a traitor.

"Well, well," Dante said with a slow clap. "Didn't expect to see you crawl back into Palermo's gutter so soon."

Luciano's voice was a blade. "I should've shot you years ago."

"You should've," Dante grinned. "But you didn't. And here we are."

Moretti coughed, laughing. "Checkmate, De Luca. You thought you could dismantle me, walk away with my empire? Kill Giovanni, break Petrov, burn Costa... and still breathe?"

Luciano tilted his head slightly. "That was the plan."

Dante motioned lazily, and three gunmen shoved forward, seizing Luciano's arms, ripping the pistol from his grip. Another cracked him in the ribs with the butt of a rifle. Luciano staggered but didn't fall.

"Bind him," Dante ordered. "Strip the weapons."

As hands grabbed at him, Luciano's eyes never left Moretti's. "If you're going to kill me... do it. Otherwise... you're wasting both our time."

Moretti sat up against a crate, wiping blood from his mouth. "Oh no... you don't die that easy, De Luca."

He snapped his fingers.

A door creaked open at the far end.

Two men dragged someone into the room.

Luciano's breath caught for a fraction of a second.

Valentina.

Bruised. Bloodied. Her hands tied. Her lip split.

She glared at Dante and Moretti with the fury of a cornered wolf. "Bastards."

Luciano's fists trembled against the ropes binding him. "What... the hell... did you do?"

Dante grinned. "Seems your little alliance with the Romani girl didn't stay secret for long."

"She took out one of our transports," Moretti added, his voice mocking. "Thought she was clever. She's not."

Valentina spit blood toward his shoes. "I'm not done yet."

Dante turned to Moretti. "What do you think? Kill them both? Or sell him off to his enemies?"

Luciano laughed.

A low, dark sound.

It cut through the air like thunder.

Dante's brow furrowed. "What the hell's funny?"

Luciano's eyes lifted, blazing. "You idiots think this is checkmate?"

He tilted his head slightly.

Click.

All around the room, red laser dots suddenly appeared—this time not on Luciano, but on the heads and chests of Moretti's men.

Confusion rippled. Gunmen turned, shouting.

A voice crackled in everyone's earpieces.

Marco.

"Surprise, bastards."

Gunfire erupted.

Silenced shots popped like fireworks.

One by one, Moretti's men dropped—clean headshots, precise, surgical.

Chaos exploded. Dante spun, reaching for his gun. Luciano lunged forward, yanking the guard's rifle upward, headbutting him hard enough to send teeth flying. Another guard lunged—Luciano twisted, snapping the man's arm with a brutal crunch before slamming his fist into his throat.

Valentina kicked her captor's knee, making him buckle, then slammed her head back into his face.

Sergio stormed through the side entrance, rifle raised, mowing down two thugs in seconds. "Boss, move!"

Luciano grabbed Dante by the collar, slamming him against the wall. "Traitors die last," he growled, pistol pressed to Dante's chin.

Moretti tried crawling for the exit, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Luciano's eyes snapped to him.

Not today.

He grabbed Dante's gun and fired. The bullet shattered Moretti's knee. The man howled, collapsing.

Luciano stalked forward, stepping on his hand, forcing the old man to scream. "I warned you."

"No... no, wait—" Moretti gasped.

"Too late."

The bullet echoed like judgment. Moretti's body hit the floor, unmoving.

Luciano turned, breathing hard, face shadowed, a king of death and vengeance standing among corpses.

He looked at Dante, who was trembling now. "Your turn."

Dante sobbed, blood running from his mouth. "Please... please... I was just—"

Luciano pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

Dante gasped.

Luciano smiled coldly. "Lucky day."

He slugged Dante across the jaw, sending him sprawling. "Lock him up," Luciano ordered. "I'll decide what to do with him later."

Sergio dragged Dante away, kicking and screaming.

Luciano turned to Valentina, cutting her ropes. "You alright?"

She wiped her mouth, nodding. "Better now."

And then, footsteps.

Ariana rushed in, breathless, eyes wide. She had escaped Marco's hold when the fight started. "Luciano..."

His head snapped toward her, pulse thundering. He strode over, pulling her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

"You're safe," he whispered, burying his face in her hair.

"You too," she whispered back.

But even in this moment, Luciano's gaze drifted past her—to the shadows beyond.

Because the war wasn't over.

It was only beginning.