Page 43 of Luciano

I pushed the fear down, buried it deep. The screams were loud in my head. I ignored them.

I pulled my gun and shot the first man in line directly in the heart.

His body collapsed to the floor. It would be a second before his brain even registered he was dead.

Blood splattered across my suit.

I turned to the next man. “Do you know anything?”

He shook his head frantically.

Bang.

Another body hit the floor.

Grown men whimpered.

“Let’s start over. My wife is missing.”

I said it calmly, controlling my rage.

"I need you all to understand something."

I let the silence stretch. Let them feel it—the fury radiating off of me.

“If I don’t get my wife back, if I don’t find her…” I exhaled, letting my head tilt slightly. “Not a soul among you will live to tell the story. None of your fucking bloodlines will be left to trace. Because after I kill you, I will make it my life’s mission to kill each and every one of your family members.”

Someone choked on a sob, the sound muffled like they were trying to swallow it back. I didn’t look to see who it was. It didn’t matter.

I lifted my arm and shot the man in front of me.

Saint exhaled loudly. “You’re wasting bullets.”

I didn’t look at him. “I have plenty.”

Saint started to continue. “Luciano, you shoul—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I heard him growl in his throat. I turned slightly—just enough to meet his eyes. I would shoot him too. I didn’t need him trying to rein me in. He had cut off the heads of two men and killed a dozen more for simple verbal disrespect towards his wife. Mine had been taken, on our wedding night.

I had already asked questions and gotten nothing. Seeing death loosened tongues much faster than threats of death.

Another shot. Another body dropped.

Then someone broke.

A young guard—sweating, shaking, desperate. His voice cracked.“I didn’t do—”

My phone rang.

I answered, because I already knew he was about to plead for his life rather than give me answers. I was starting to think the people lined up here didn’t actually know anything. I put the phone on speaker. Maybe the person calling me had answers.

“Who— is?” I could hear how low, dangerous my voice sounded. I had never before heard this tone.

“I followed them,” Aria cut me off.

Saint went rigid beside me.

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