Chapter 5

The click echoed. Both Lorenzo and Mateo turned fast, instincts snapping to survival. A man stepped out of the shadows, pistol raised, steady as though he had been waiting for this moment. His face was hidden under a cap, his stance sharp and controlled. He wasn't some street thug. He was a damn professional.

“De Luca,” the stranger said, his voice flat, touched with a northern accent. “Ricardo sends his regards.”

The name cut through the air. Ricardo. How could he had found out?

Lorenzo’s blood turned cold. But Mateo was already shifting. One wrong move and it would be over.

Lorenzo forced a smirk back onto his face, even as his heart raced. “Tell Ricardo if he wants me dead, he should try it himself.”

The gunman’s lip curled. “Orders don’t work that way.”

He shifted the gun. Not at Lorenzo but at Mateo.

Something inside Lorenzo snapped.

“Down!” Lorenzo roared, slamming his shoulder into Mateo’s chest just as the shot cracked through the night. The bullet ripped into the hood of Lorenzo’s car, glass shattering across the ground. Both men hit the stone hard, rolling.

Another shot blasted. Mateo was already pulling his knife, he never carried guns when he was meant to stay hidden, but he never went anywhere without steel.

“Gun!” Lorenzo barked, scrambling, hand finding his pistol at his waist. He fired back blind, sparks lighting the air.

The assassin ducked behind a concrete wall, firing again in sharp, trained bursts.

“Stay down!” Mateo hissed, pushing Lorenzo’s shoulder.

“Get off me!” Lorenzo snapped, shoving him back. “I don’t need saving…”

A bullet smacked into the wall inches from his head, rock chips spraying his cheek. Both men froze. Their eyes locked. Pride was useless now.

“Together,” Mateo growled.

Lorenzo gave a short nod.

They moved as one. Lorenzo fired, Mateo cutting across the side, fast and low. The assassin tracked Lorenzo with his gun, but that left his flank open. Mateo moved fast, his knife flashing.

A strangled cry tore through the night and the pistol clattered to the ground.

Lorenzo was on the man in a heartbeat, grabbing his collar, slamming him against the wall. His gun pressed under the assassin’s jaw. “Are you sure Ricardo sent you?” he snarled.

The assassin’s eyes burned, blood staining his teeth. “Ricardo doesn’t forgive.”

Mateo twisted the blade deeper. The man choked, sagging. His body went limp before Lorenzo could even pull the trigger.

For a long moment neither man moved, both breathing hard. Blood pooled black at their feet, glistening under the faint streetlight. The body twitched once, then went still.

Lorenzo finally let out a sharp breath, the rage bleeding out of him. He glanced at Mateo. “You saved me. Again.”

Mateo wiped the blade on his sleeve,ace hard. “Don’t thank me.”

“Why not?”

“Because this….” Mateo’s voice came low, rough, “.....this doesn’t end with him.” He jerked his chin at the body. “Ricardo will know. He always knows.”

Lorenzo smirked, though his hands still shook. “Then let him. What’s he going to do? Send another dog?”

Mateo turned, eyes flashing. “You don’t get it. Killing one of his men, it’s not just blood. It’s war.”

Lorenzo tilted his head, mocking. “So what will you do, Cruz? Run back and tell him the truth? That you killed his assassin to save me?”

Mateo’s jaw locked. He stayed silent.

Lorenzo’s smirk thinned, almost bitter. “That’s what I thought.”

For a long moment, they only stared, the silence heavy with what neither dared to say.

Finally, Lorenzo nudged the dead man with his boot. “Help me.”

They dragged the body across the stone toward the pier. Together, they heaved him into the sea. The waves swallowed him fast. 

When it was done, Mateo stayed staring at the water, shoulders stiff. His knuckles were white around his knife.

“You shouldn’t have been here,” he muttered.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Lorenzo shot back.

Mateo turned, his face cold. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Breathing,” Lorenzo said with a smirk. “Something you seem to hate around me.”

Mateo stepped closer, his voice tight. “You’re not helping,”

Lorenzo’s smile deepened as he let out laugh. 

Mateo’s hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out, or strike. But he stayed still.

Before either could speak again, an engine roared in the distance. Both froze, hands going to weapons.

A car tore down the main road, headlights sweeping across the road, then fading into the dark.

The two men stood in silence, their hearts still racing.

*****************************

Two Days Later

The news spread fast, a missing body. Rumors of blood on the seashore. Rumors moving through Ricardo’s men.

Mateo had kept quiet. But by the second night, he was summoned.

Ricardo waited in the back room of a shuttered café, There were no guards with him. He didn’t need them. Power itself was his protection.

Mateo stepped in, bowing his head. “Señor.”

Ricardo didn’t look up at first. He stirred his espresso sowly. Finally, his eyes lifted. It was dark.

“Word reaches me,” Ricardo said softly, “that one of mine is gone.”

Mateo’s chest tightened. He kept his voice even. “He failed his mission.”

“Failed,” Ricardo echoed, rolling the word like it tasted foul. “And yet, I hear rumors that he didn’t fail on his own. That he was stopped.”

Mateo stayed silent.

Ricardo leaned back, his fingers clenching. “Tell me, Mateo. Who do you serve?”

The question cut deep.

Mateo swallowed. “I serve you. Always.”

Ricardo’s eyes sharpened. “Do you?” His tone louder than expected. “Because the rumors whisper your name beside another. De Luca.”

Mateo’s heart raced. 

Ricardo smiled thinly. “So I ask you now, mi hijo: are you mine, or are you theirs? Choose.”