Chapter 5

• Chapter 5: To Kill Or To Claim
• Lena barely has time to process what is happening before rough, calloused hands grab her arms with bruising force. The guards move with swift, practiced efficiency, patting her down with mechanical precision that speaks of years of experience in handling potential threats. She struggles instinctively against their iron grip, her body's natural response to being restrained so suddenly, but their hold is unyielding, their faces carved from stone, devoid of any emotion or sympathy. Then, one of them lets out a sharp intake of breath that cuts through the tense silence like a knife.
• "Boss," he murmurs, his voice tinged with unmistakable apprehension as he holds up the small, seemingly insignificant card they have retrieved from the depths of her pocket. "You need to see this."
• The room shifts palpably. The atmosphere, already heavy with tension and unspoken threats, turns suffocating, as if all the oxygen has been suddenly vacuumed out. The man in charge—a figure somehow more terrifying than Luca himself with his cold, calculating eyes and the subtle aura of absolute power that clings to him like a second skin—steps forward with deliberate steps that echo in the sudden silence. He snatches the card from his guard's trembling hand with swift, precise movements. His sharp, penetrating eyes scan the inscription beneath the logo with meticulous attention, and in that heart-stopping moment, Lena sees it—the unmistakable flicker of recognition, quickly followed by something she never expects to see in such a man: fear. A ripple of tension runs through the assembled group like a silent, electric wave, as if every single person in the room has simultaneously realized just who she is and what her presence means.
• "You're the judge's daughter," the man mutters, his voice dangerously quiet, barely above a whisper yet somehow filling every corner of the room. "Moretti's daughter." He turns the card over in his hands, examining it as if it might be a forgery. "Of all the people in this city..."
• Lena's blood runs cold, a glacial chill spreading through her veins and freezing her in place. They know. And from the fear that suddenly lines their hardened faces, etching deep furrows between their brows and tightening their jaws, it is painfully clear that her father's name carries tremendous weight in this shadowy world—a crushing weight that now threatens to suffocate her beneath its implications.
• The leader turns to Luca, his movements sharp and decisive. "You have no choice, Luca," he says, his tone devoid of any warmth or sympathy, cold as the barrel of a gun pressed against flesh. "She can't leave. Kill her."
• Lena's heart stops, the muscle seizing painfully in her chest as the words register in her mind. Her breath comes in quick, shallow bursts as raw panic claws mercilessly at her throat, threatening to choke her. Kill her? Just like that? As if her life were nothing more than an inconvenience to be eliminated with the casual efficiency of swatting a fly?
• "Kill her?" she chokes out, her voice barely audible. "Please, I don't—"
• "Quiet," the boss snaps, not even sparing her a glance. "This doesn't concern you anymore."
• She turns to Luca, her eyes wide with desperate hope, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell her he won't go through with it, that he isn't capable of such callous disregard for human life. But what she finds instead is fury unlike anything she has ever witnessed. His dark eyes, usually guarded and unreadable, now burn into her with the intensity of molten lava, his jaw clenched so tightly she thinks the bone might snap beneath the pressure. He is livid, his entire body coiled with barely contained rage that seems to radiate from him in scorching waves.
• "Why can't you just listen?" he shouts at her, his voice like a crack of thunder in the enclosed space, reverberating off the walls and hammering against her eardrums. "Do you even understand what you've done? Do you have any idea the kind of mess you've dragged yourself into? The consequences that follow?"
• "I was just—" Lena starts, her voice trembling.
• "You were just what?" Luca cuts her off, stepping closer until she can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Just curious? Just trying to prove something? Was it worth it, Lena? Was whatever you were looking for worth your life?"
• Lena trembles uncontrollably, her limbs feeling like they belong to someone else, unable to form a coherent response as her mind reels. His anger is blistering, searing through her defenses more effectively than the threat of death itself, reducing her arguments and explanations to ashes before they can even form on her tongue.
• Luca rakes a hand through his dark hair with such force that several strands come loose, pacing the room like a caged predator, each step heavy with frustration and indecision. His agitation is palpable, radiating off him in waves that seem to disturb the very air around him. "How the hell am I supposed to pull the trigger on you?" he demands, his voice hoarse with emotion he is clearly fighting to suppress. "You're just a kid. A naive, stubborn kid who doesn't know when to back off. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have seen any of this. This is not your world! It was never meant to touch you!"
• "I'm not a child," she whispers defiantly, though her voice betrays her fear. "And I didn't ask for this."
• "No?" he snarls. "You didn't ask for this when you decided to follow me? When you stuck your nose where it doesn't belong? What exactly did you think would happen?"
• She flinches visibly at his words, each one striking her like a physical blow. She has never seen anyone this angry before—not at her, not with this raw intensity that seems to border on something deeper, something almost like desperation. And yet, beneath all that fury, beneath the harsh words and accusatory glares, she senses something else stirring. A hesitation. A struggle that plays out in the almost imperceptible tremor of his hands and the flicker of conflict in his eyes.
• The man in charge narrows his eyes, watching Luca with a mixture of curiosity and growing impatience, his fingers drumming a slow, threatening rhythm against his thigh. "You're stalling," he observes with clinical detachment, his voice cutting through Luca's tirade. "You don't want to do it."
• "Is that what you see, Vittorio?" Luca challenges, using the boss's name for the first time. "You think I'm afraid to pull a trigger?"
• "No," Vittorio replies calmly. "I think you're afraid to pull this trigger. There's a difference."
• Luca stops pacing abruptly, exhaling sharply as if someone has knocked the wind from his lungs. His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, a momentary breach in his otherwise impenetrable façade. "I can't," he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper, yet the words seem to echo in the silence that follows.
• That silence stretches between them painfully, taut as a wire about to snap, filled with unspoken threats and implications.
• Then, the boss sighs heavily, rubbing his temples as if Luca has just given him a migraine that will plague him for days. "Fine," he says, his voice laced with irritation and something that might be resignation. "I'll give you a choice. Kill her, or take her in."
• Lena's breath hitches painfully in her throat, her heart resuming its frantic rhythm.
• "What?" Luca's head snaps up, his expression hardening once more into an impenetrable mask that gives nothing away.
• "You heard me," Vittorio says, crossing his arms. "Make her disappear one way or another. She can't leave, not now that she knows who we are, what we do," the man continues, gesturing vaguely around the room at the assembled men who watch the exchange with varying degrees of interest and caution. "You either put a bullet in her head and end this cleanly, or you keep her under lock and key. She becomes your shadow. She doesn't leave your sight. Not for a minute. Not for a second. Ever."
• "And if I refuse both options?" Luca asks, his voice dangerously soft.
• Vittorio's smile is cold, lethal. "Then I'll have someone else pull the trigger, and you'll join her. Your choice."
• Lena's entire body goes numb, a strange detachment settling over her as if she were watching these events happen to someone else from a great distance. She turns to the boss, her eyes wide and pleading, her voice shaking uncontrollably as she struggles to form words through her terror. "Please, I swear, I won't tell anyone. I won't say a word about anything I've seen—"
• "You think your father won't notice something is wrong?" the man cuts her off, his tone mocking and laden with disbelief. "A judge, who's built his entire career on taking down men like us? Who has devoted his life to seeing people like me behind bars? You think he won't suspect a damn thing when his daughter starts acting strange? Don't be naive, girl. It insults both of us." He turns back to Luca with finality. "Decide. Now."
• "There must be another way," Lena pleads, looking desperately between the two men. "I'll convince him I don't know anything. I'll—"
• "Enough," Vittorio silences her with a raised hand. "Your fate isn't in your hands anymore. It's in his." He nods toward Luca.
• Lena feels her chest tighten painfully, her lungs struggling to draw in adequate air as the weight of her situation presses down on her from all sides.
• Luca doesn't speak immediately. His expression is carefully, deliberately unreadable, his fingers flexing rhythmically at his sides as if he were physically grappling with the decision that has been thrust upon him. He glances at Lena, and for the first time since she met him, she sees something unfamiliar flicker across his features. Conflict. Uncertainty. A crack in the armor he wears so effortlessly.
• Then, after what feels like an eternity suspended on the knife-edge of possibility, he makes his choice.
• He turns to the boss, his face set in stone, all internal struggle hidden beneath a mask of determination. "I'll take her."
• The words, spoken with such finality, send a fresh wave of ice-cold dread cascading through Lena's veins.
• Her entire world tilts sharply on its axis, spinning wildly out of her control like a compass near a magnet. Her pulse thunders deafeningly in her ears as the full implications of those three simple words crash over her with the force of a tidal wave. She is his prisoner now. Bound to a man she barely knows, trapped in a life she never asked for, never even imagined possible.
• The boss smirks, a small, satisfied twist of his lips that never reaches his cold, calculating eyes. "Good." He gestures toward her dismissively, as if she were nothing more than a piece of property being transferred. "She's your responsibility now. Make sure she doesn't become a problem we all regret."
• "I won't,"
• Luca replies, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. "You have my word."