Exclusively Mine

Luca’s blood turned to ice. “You… you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t make idle threats, Luca Moretti.” Vittorio’s voice softened, but it wasn’t kindness—it was the velvet wrapping a blade. “Your brother is at school right now. Chemistry class, I believe. One call, and my men walk in. They’re very efficient. No mess. No witnesses if they don’t want any. He’ll never even see it coming.”

Tears burned Luca’s eyes. He hated them—hated how weak they made him feel—but they spilled anyway, hot tracks down his bruised cheeks. The tough street thief, the one who joked through beatings and stole from devils, crumbled in seconds. “Don’t. God, please don’t. He’s just a kid. He didn’t do anything. I’ll… I’ll give you the drive. I kept it. It’s in my pocket. Take it. Take everything. But leave him alone.”

Vittorio lowered the phone slightly, but his eyes never left Luca’s face. He watched the breakdown with the detached interest of a scientist observing a reaction. Yet there was something else there too—a flicker of recognition, maybe. The echo of old loyalties, or the ghost of someone Vittorio himself had once protected at any cost.

Luca nodded frantically, chest heaving with ugly, relieved sobs he couldn’t hold back. “Yes. Anything. Just… promise me he’s safe. Please. I’ll be whatever you need. A thief. Whatever. Just don’t hurt him.”

The guards shifted uncomfortably, unused to seeing their boss’s prisoners break so completely, so humanly. Snake-neck looked almost embarrassed.

Vittorio studied Luca for a long, heavy moment. The boy was on his knees, trembling, tears cutting tracks through the dirt and dried blood on his face. He should end this now. A single nod and the problem would disappear. Thieves didn’t get second chances. Not from him.

But as he looked down, the memory of the previous night crashed over him without warning.

That private room. The way Luca had gasped under his hands, body tense and inexperienced yet responding with a raw honesty Vittorio hadn’t encountered in years. The quiet moral code that had cracked under desperation. The way the young thief had yielded—not performing, not calculating, just *feeling*. It had lingered with him long after he’d left the bar. A hunger that refused to settle. Not simple lust. Something deeper. A need to possess what had been briefly his, to keep it close, to control every shiver and every defiant spark.

Mercy had no place in Vittorio Russo’s world. This wasn’t mercy.

It was possession.

Vittorio’s jaw tightened. The decision clicked into place, cold and final, wrapped in layers of desire and raw power.

“No,” he said suddenly, voice cutting through the warehouse hum. The guards paused, confused. “He doesn’t die. Not today.”

Luca lifted his head, eyes wide and wary, still glistening.

Vittorio stepped forward, crouching to Luca’s level. He cupped the boy’s chin with firm fingers, forcing their gazes to lock. Up close, Luca’s breath was shaky, his skin warm despite the chill in the air. Vittorio could feel the rapid pulse under his thumb.

“You belong to me now, Luca Moretti. Exclusively. Mine. Not my employee. Not a loose thief on a leash. Mine. You sleep where I say. You eat what I allow. You breathe because it pleases me. Your body, your loyalty, your every breath—they’re no longer yours. They’re mine to take whenever I want.” His thumb brushed Luca’s lower lip, a gesture heavy with dark promise. “And if you ever lie to me again… your brother won’t be the only one who suffers.”

Luca’s breath hitched sharply. The words stripped away the last illusion of control. His body still remembered the heat of that private room, the confusing mix of shame and unwanted pleasure. Hatred and fear churned in his chest, but so did a fragile, desperate relief—Nico would live. That was the only thing that mattered.

“You’re a bastard,” Luca whispered, voice hoarse but carrying a thread of defiance.

Vittorio’s lips curved into the smallest, most dangerous smile. “Yes. But I’m your bastard now.” He released Luca’s chin and straightened. “Patch him up. Bring him to the house. The brother stays untouched—for now. Make sure of it.”

The guards hauled Luca to his feet. He swayed, legs unsteady, every bruise screaming. One of them fished the flash drive from his pocket and handed it over without a word. Vittorio examined it briefly before tucking it away.

As they marched him toward the waiting black SUV, the warehouse doors rolling open to let in the gray city dawn, Luca glanced back at Vittorio one last time. His heart hammered with a storm of emotions—terror, humiliation, reluctant fascination, and that stubborn spark that refused to die completely.

“Hey, boss,” he rasped, voice carrying that familiar crooked edge even through the exhaustion. “If I’m yours now… does that include dental? Because this split lip is killing me, and your hospitality could use some work.”

One of the guards choked on a surprised laugh. Snake-neck muttered, “Kid’s got a death wish.”

Vittorio simply shook his head, but the twitch at his mouth returned—stronger this time, almost fond in its irritation.

“Keep talking, Luca. It might be the only thing that keeps you interesting enough to stay alive.”

The SUV door slammed shut. Engines purred to life.

Outside, the city woke up, oblivious. Somewhere across town, Nico sat in chemistry class, doodling in his notebook, unaware that his brother had just traded his freedom, his body, and possibly his soul for the boy’s tomorrow.

And deep in Luca’s chest, amid the terror and the fragile relief, a new emotion took root: a tangled mess of hatred, reluctant fascination, and the burning need to survive long enough to find a way out.

He had no idea how deep the web already ran.

But he was about to learn.