Page 211 of The Owner's Temptation

Lucian orders Lorenzo to throw down his knife. When it lands at his feet, Lucian picks it up and flips it open with a snap that makes Lorenzo flinch. I feel it in my spine. A jolt that steals my breath.

“Please,” Lorenzo begs. “Not in front of my son—please, Lucian.”

Lucian crouches beside him. His hand grips the mans wrist, forcing it to the gravel ground. Fingers spread wide and flat.

His voice a lethal whisper. “You took my girl.”

I can’t see the cut. But I see Lucian pressing. The weight of him going into the blade, taking what he wants from Lorenzo’s body.

His pound of flesh.

Lorenzo’s scream that tears through the air and vibrates all the way down to my bones. I squeeze the boy tighter as he jerks, trying not to cry out myself.

Lucian keeps going, listing Lorenzo’s offenses.

“You called her awhore,” he growls, grabbing Lorenzo’s other hand. “Put yourfuckinghands on her.”

Another slice. Another finger.

The scream this time is quieter. Choked off by pain, or shock, or maybe the reality of what Lucian Vale has become in this moment—a man with nothing left to lose.

My stomach churns at the guttural noises coming from Lorenzo. His blood staining the grey rocks he’s kneeling upon.

Then the blade hovers over Lorenzo’s right ring finger, a thick black and gold band glinting in the firelight.

“You were so afraid your empire would be handed over to me.” Lucian’s rage is controlled. Alarmingly appearing calm but the fire in his eyes tells otherwise. “That it would be me that climbed to the top of the DeLuca empire. So, I fucking walked away.”

He readies the blade.

“No—please,” Lorenzo sobs. “Not that one. Please, I?—”

Lucian doesn’t wait for the plea to finish.

“I’ve earned this one, you motherfucker.”

The blade comes down. Another finger gone, ring and all. Then Lucian stabs the blade through his hand, pinning him to the ground.

Lorenzo’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. His eyes are wide and wet, his entire body trembling.

Lucian picks up the ring like it’s a crown. Looks at it.

“I left you to be the king of your empire but it wasn’t good enough. And you want to know why?”

The man has been reduced to a huddled mass, wanting to hold his wounds but he can’t. He wants to pull the knife from his hand but his other is shaking too badly.

The wound where his pinky used to be looking like a dark hole, oozing blood.

“You’re done, Lorenzo,” he says, his voice like ice and thunder. “Just like you feared. I’ve taken your empire from you.”

The man sobs now. A sound so broken it barely resembles a man at all.

“You should’ve just let me walk away,” Lucian adds, standing tall, towering over him. “Taken the fucking truce I offered. But you had to drag it into the light because of your fucking ego and your goddamn insecurities.”

He hurls the ring—Lorenzo’s pride, his name, his legacy—into the water behind us, and I hear it splash into nothing.

I feel like this act is sacred. Like it means something.

It feels like the power Lorenzo had, disappears with the gold band.

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