The Cost of Blood
The drive back to Lorenzo's private estate was silent, the weight of the night pressing down on everyone in the SUV. Mia sat beside him, her fingers still curled around the gun she had fired. Her body was tense, but Lorenzo knew her mind was racing even faster.
Lorenzo, however, had no time to soothe her. His mind was already on the retaliation. The attack had been boldâtoo bold. Whoever was behind it wasn't just sending a message; they were trying to eliminate him. And they had nearly succeeded.
When they pulled into the estate's long driveway, his men were already waiting. Luca, his second-in-command, approached as soon as they exited the vehicle. His face was grim.
"We lost two," Luca reported. "One of the bastards got away, but we're tracking him now."
Lorenzo exhaled slowly, the anger simmering beneath his skin. "And the one Mia shot?"
"Dead. Marco finished him."
Mia flinched at the words, but she didn't say anything. Lorenzo turned to her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of regret. Instead, he saw only determinationâuncertainty, yes, but no fear. She was strong. Stronger than she even realized.
"Get Marco patched up," Lorenzo ordered, his voice firm. "And double the security. No one gets in or out without my say-so."
Luca nodded before heading inside, leaving Lorenzo alone with Mia.
She finally spoke. "What happens now?"
Lorenzo rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaling slowly. "Now, I send a message."
Mia swallowed, stepping closer. "Lorenzo, this won't stop, will it?"
He looked at her then, really looked at her. "No."
She didn't flinch. She didn't pull away. Instead, she lifted her chin, her resolve strengthening. "Then neither will I."
His chest tightened at her words. She wasn't just saying themâshe meant them. And that terrified him more than any bullet ever could.
Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed. He checked the screen, his expression darkening.
"They're waiting for me," he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "Stay inside. Don't let anyone in, not even my men."
Mia frowned. "Where are you going?"
Lorenzo pressed a hand to her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the storm brewing inside him. "To end this."
And with that, he turned and walked away, ready to make whoever had dared to come after them suffer the consequences.
Lorenzo stepped into the underground warehouse, the scent of oil and blood thick in the air. His men had done their job well. The lone survivor of the ambush was tied to a chair in the middle of the concrete floor, blood dripping from his busted lip. His breaths were ragged, but his eyes still burned with defiance.
Lorenzo rolled up his sleeves, stepping closer. "Who sent you?"
The man spat blood onto the floor. "You already know."
Lorenzo's jaw clenched. He did know. But he wanted to hear it. Wanted to make this man say it.
He nodded to one of his men. A swift punch landed against the prisoner's ribs, forcing a strangled gasp from his lips.
"Who sent you?" Lorenzo repeated, his voice colder this time.
The man let out a weak laugh. "Does it matter? You're already dead."
Lorenzo tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "We'll see about that."
He stepped back as Luca handed him a knife. The man's laughter faded, replaced by a flicker of fear. Lorenzo took his time, dragging the blade against his palm, watching as a thin line of blood welled up.
"I don't like repeating myself," he murmured. "So I'll ask one last time. Who. Sent. You?"
The man swallowed hard, finally breaking. "Valentino."
Lorenzo's blood ran cold at the name. His grip on the knife tightened.
Valentino had been a ghost from his past, a rival he thought he had buried years ago. But now, he was back. And he had come for blood.
Lorenzo turned away, already making plans in his mind. If Valentino wanted war, he would get one.
"Dispose of him," he said over his shoulder, his voice devoid of emotion.
As he walked out of the warehouse, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, he didn't wait for a greeting.
"It's time to end this."