17. Scare her Good

Luca’s POV

I stepped into the living room and froze.

Maria was curled up on the couch like a broken thing. Her shoulders hunched. Her head bowed low. Her eyes met mine for a second—red and hollow, like she's been crying all day, leaving traces of tears to dry.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

I walked over quietly, and she looked up again, forcing the words out like they burned in her throat.

“They destroyed everything. Everything I owned in that apartment.”

Her voice cracked on the word everything.

She inhaled slowly, trying to stay composed. I could see her jaw tighten. She wasn’t trying to get pity—she was trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“Whoever got into my apartment destroyed everything, Mr De Rossi. That apartment was empty when I got it. From the mattress to every other thing in it, I bought it with the money I worked for. Every single item.”

Her voice got thinner.

“And they destroyed it all. All of it.”

I sat beside her, my throat dry.

She turned away, her eyes tearing up again. “And they left me a message. On the wall… above my bed.”

“What was it?” I asked softly.

She didn’t look at me when she said it. “You’ll never be safe here.”

A pause stretched between us.

I pulled her in gently, one arm wrapping around her as her head rested against my chest. Her body trembled, not violently—just enough for me to feel the storm she was trying to contain.

She didn’t cry again. But her silence screamed loud enough.

I looked up—and Alex was already standing near the doorway.

Our eyes met.

I gave a small nod.

He nodded back once, and slipped out the door.

He knew what it meant.

I had only asked the man to scare her. Keep her close. Remind her the outside wasn’t kind.

But I never told him to wreck her entire life.

And now… he'd crossed a line he didn't even know existed.

*******

It was past midnight when Alex’s name came up on my phone.

“It’s ready,” he said. “Room twelve. 19th floor.”

I was already halfway there when he hung up.

The room was quiet. I didn't need anyone standing or guarding the place. Just him, handcuffed to the chair in the center like a wrapped gift.

He looked up as I entered.

“Hello, man,” I said casually.

His body jolted upright. “Yes—yes, sir. Boss. Hello.”

I raised a brow, amused. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, boss. But my boss said you needed a favour recently. Said you needed someone to take care of a little doll. And I believe I took care of it really well.”

“Hm.” I walked in slowly, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. “Really well, isn’t it?”

He nodded, but slowly. Like he was beginning to understand the irony.

I didn’t say anything for a beat.

Then, softly: “You destroyed everything in her apartment.”

He hesitated now, eyes flicking nervously.

“I was trying to scare her like you instructed, sir. So she doesn’t want to go back. I figured the more damage, the more she'd want to stay with you—safe.”

I smiled faintly. “Well, you see…”

I crouched in front of him, so we were eye level.

“You made her cry.”

He blinked, lips parting like he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“She was shaking when I held her. Shaking.” My voice dropped lower. “And you stood in the same room with me and smiled, like you did something right.”

“I—I didn’t mean no harm, boss—”

“I gave you a chance to scare her. Not break her.”

“Please, I didn’t know—”

“You knew enough to write on her wall.”

His mouth opened. Shut. He swallowed.

I stood up, brushing invisible lint from my jacket. “You know, I’m not a monster.”

“No, boss, no—”

“I like to give people chances.”

“Yes.”

“And sometimes,” I said, walking slowly around him, “I give them hope. I let them believe the worst part is over.”

I moved to the corner table, picked up a glass of water, and handed it to him.

He took it with shaking hands, the metal cuffs clinking softly.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

I smiled again.

Then I leaned in and whispered, “But that’s the trick, isn’t it?”

The water in his mouth hadn’t even been swallowed before I pulled the wire from the back of his chair and wrapped it around his neck.

It was fast. Clean.

He kicked once. Twice. Thrice. Then the fourth time. Each kick becomes slower than the former.

And then a final one. 

And then stillness.

I stood there, my heart steady. Watching the light leave his eyes.

No screaming. No blood.

Just the illusion of mercy—shattered by the truth of my rage.

He thought he was free.

I made sure of that.

Alex entered minutes later. “You want me to take care of it sir?”

“Narrh… call the others. I need you to rest well today, Alex. Because tomorrow… and the days after… there isn't going to be so much rest in London.”

“Yes sir.” And he left.

Maria didn't need to know that t

his person is dead. 

If she asks, all she'll know is I’ve taken care of it –for her.

And that's all that matters, because she's so close to being mine.