Chapter 3 - The Night the Blood Ran Cold
“Let go of her, Luca!” a familiar, smooth voice called out from the edge of the crowd.
Luca didn't turn his head. His eyes remained locked on Hannah. Stepping forward through the parted crowd was Marcus Vance—Luca’s chief underboss, his most trusted strategist, and the man who had managed his security detail for over a decade. Marcus wore an immaculate charcoal tuxedo, his silver-streaked hair neatly combed, but his eyes were darting frantically toward the kneeling waitress.
“Boss, this woman is clearly unstable. She’s a disgruntled former employee looking for a payout,” Marcus urged, taking another step closer, his hand hovering slightly too close to his suit jacket. “Let security handle her. Let's get Sophia back to the estate.”
Hannah flinched violently at the sound of Marcus’s voice. She pulled Sophia even tighter against her chest, her entire body shaking like a leaf in a winter storm.
“Don't let him near us!” Hannah screamed, looking up at Luca with desperate, tear-filled eyes. “He’s the one! Marcus is the one who ordered the hit!”
The ballroom erupted into a chaotic wave of murmurs. Wealthy donors scrambled backward, terrified of being caught in the crossfire of a mob execution.
Luca slowly stood up from the floor. The towering mafia boss turned his head to look at Marcus. The air in the room grew so cold it felt toxic. For three years, Marcus had stood by Luca’s side, mourning the tragedy, comforting him, and helping him run the syndicate.
“Marcus,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a deadly, subterranean rumble. “Is she lying?”
Marcus’s polite, professional smile flickered and died. A cold, arrogant sneer twisted his sharp features. He knew the game was up. He pulled a heavy, suppressed pistol from his jacket, leveling it directly at Luca’s chest.
“She’s not lying, Boss,” Marcus laughed darkly, his voice echoing across the silent hall. “You got soft. You wanted to settle down, raise a family, turn the syndicate into a legitimate corporation. You were destroying everything we built. So I hired the cleanup crew. Too bad they dropped the kid down the stairs instead of finishing the job.”
Luca didn't flinch. He didn't reach for a weapon. The rage inside him was so massive, so destructive, that it radiated off him like heat from a furnace.
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“You touched my wife,” Luca whispered, taking a slow, menacing step forward. “You broke my daughter's legs. And you stood by my side for three years pretending to be my brother.”
👉 Marcus has a gun pointed at the most dangerous man in Chicago, but what hidden trap has Luca already set around the ballroom?
