Chapter 5

Chapter 5 — The Cost of Defiance

~LORENZO~

"F**k!" I hissed, yanking the syringe from my leg. The metal snapped halfway, the needle’s tip still lodged under my skin. The pain was nothing. Inconvenient. Insignificant. What consumed me was the image of Aria—barefoot, wild-eyed—disappearing into the night like a feral animal.

My driver instinctively changed lanes, but I barked the order, cold and cutting.

"Don’t. Let. Her. Run."

He obeyed like a ghost obeys a curse. Stopped the car without a question, waiting for my next command. They all knew better than to test me.

"Take me home."

My voice was like a storm contained behind glass.

He turned the car around, and I didn’t speak again.

My hand reached into my pocket, pulling out my blade. Without hesitation, I tore through the fabric of my trousers and sliced into my own flesh. A clean cut. Surgical. The embedded shard of the needle was small, but the wound needed tending. Still, I had no time for medics. I grit my teeth and pushed, my gloved fingers pulling out the jagged metal and tossing it onto the floor mat.

My leg bled freely now, soaking through the fabric, but I ignored it. Pain had long since lost its meaning. I wiped the blood off on my ruined pants and pulled out my phone. It rang twice before Matteo picked up. His voice oozed lazy sarcasm.

“I told you I need at least an hour to get any leads. You know how I hate being interrupted.”

He was the only person allowed to talk to me like that. He had earned the right—with blood, scars, and loyalty.

"I need you to do something else."

I kept my tone flat, neutral, like death wearing a suit.

"Aria stabbed me with a syringe and ran."

A beat of silence.

Then laughter.

“Well, d*mn. Your little mafia bride’s got claws.”

"Find her," I said. "And have her taken to the auction house. No bruises, just fear. I want her terrified before she gets there."

Matteo whistled low.

“So we’re doing theatrics now. You gonna sell her off to the highest bidder? Romantic."

"Don’t test me."

"Relax, boss. My men are already out. She won’t get far. Barefoot. In a hospital gown? She’s a rabbit trying to outrun wolves. Twenty-five minutes. She’ll be there."

He hung up without another word.

I hurled the phone across the seat, fury twisting inside my chest like a serpent coiling tighter with every breath.

Aria had underestimated me. Again. That would be her last mistake.

She didn’t know what kind of world she’d married into.

She would.

When we arrived at the penthouse, I limped inside, blood trailing behind me. My marble floors gleamed like they were taunting me—too clean, too cold. I stripped off the ruined clothes, tossed them into the flames of the fireplace, and wrapped my leg tight enough to cut off the pain.

Then I changed.

Black shirt. Dark slacks. No tie.

Clean. Calculated. Dangerous.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I fixed the cuff of my sleeve and smoothed my beard. No trace of blood. No trace of hesitation.

I didn’t need theatrics to make a threat.

I was the threat.

I slid behind the wheel of my car and drove. The city blurred past—steel and shadow, glass and secrets. It was a stage built for men like me. But tonight wasn’t about power plays or underworld alliances.

Tonight, it was about Aria.

The Black Orchid shimmered in the distance. From the outside, it looked like a high-end club, but beneath the flashing lights and velvet ropes was a darker reality. An auction house for souls.

Men in tailored suits loitered at the entrance, smoke curling from their mouths like sin being exhaled. Their eyes flicked toward me and then away, not daring to hold my gaze.

I walked through them like a knife through silk.

Inside, the music pulsed like a heartbeat. The crowd swelled with predators—smiling, laughing, drunk on wealth and wickedness.

And somewhere, Aria was being dragged closer to this world.

My phone buzzed. Matteo.

"She’s on her way," he said, the grin in his voice audible. "One of the guys said she screamed his ears off. Full breakdown. Crying, begging, barefoot... the whole pathetic package."

"Good."

He chuckled.

"What exactly are you going to do with her?"

I didn’t hesitate.

"Teach her."

Matteo whistled.

"By letting her see how easily she can be replaced? D*mn. Even for you, this is dark."

"I want her to understand what happens to women who run from men like me."

He laughed again.

"You mean monsters like you."

I ignored him.

Then Matteo’s voice shifted. The sarcasm dropped.

“You might want to sit down for this. I found who ordered the hit on your car.”

The words dropped like lead in my chest. I stopped walking.

"You’re not going to like it," Matteo added.

"Talk."

“It’s the same ghost from four years ago. The one who left no trace. Same encrypted trail, same private node system... same everything.”

My jaw clenched. My entire body froze.

The past, the night my father and brother were slaughtered came crashing back like a tsunami I’d spent years holding at bay.

“It’s him,” Matteo confirmed.

“The bastard who made you what you are. He’s b

ack.

And this time, he didn’t miss.”

He paused.

“And Lorenzo... you’re the top of his list.”