CHAPTER FOUR

Lorenzo's pov

"Please... have mercy on us, Boss."

The man's voice shook violently, a thin stream of fresh blood trickling from the corner of his swollen lip down onto the cold, stained concrete floor. His wrists were bound brutally tight with thick industrial rope to the frame of a heavy wooden chair. Beside him, his partner looked barely conscious, his head slumping forward against his chest, his face battered and bruised beyond recognition.

The entire warehouse was dead quiet. The heavy, metallic smell of copper hung thick in the chilly air, mixed with the damp, earthy scent of wet brickwork from the old structure. The only sound echoing through the massive, hollow space was the sound of their ragged, terrified breathing.

I rose slowly from my leather armchair, taking my time to smooth down the front of my tailored suit jacket. I walked across the room, my polished leather shoes clicking methodically against the floor, toward the long steel table resting against the far brick wall.

Neatly arranged across its polished metal surface were instruments of my trade knives of various lengths, heavy iron pliers, thick chains, and specialized tools designed specifically for men who proved incompetent.

I picked up a sleek silver dagger, turning it slowly over in my hands, letting the harsh overhead bulb catch its polished, lethal edge.

"You had one simple job," I said quietly. My tone wasn't

raised it was calm, almost conversational but it sliced cleanly through the stillness like a blade.

Neither of them dared to make a sound.

"The nephew of the Valenti syndicate," I continued softly, tracing the sharp tip of the blade with my thumb. "The heir who holds the physical ledger to their entire underground distribution network."

The first man lowered his head, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably under my gaze. "B-Boss... we swear on our lives, we thought he was the target.

The height, the dark

hair, the frame... in the shadows outside that club, he matched the file we were given down to the detail."

"You thought?"

I turned around slowly, my dark eyes fixing on him with an absolute, unyielding coldness.

"I don't pay you to think."

His entire body violently shuddered, the wooden legs of his chair rattling loudly against the concrete floorboards. "It was dark on the street! He walked out of Vespera right when the target was scheduled to leave! By the time we realized the mistake, he was already unconscious in the back of the SUV!"

I stared at both of them, my face entirely devoid of warmth or emotion.

"You brought me an innocent medical student instead of

the man I ordered you to take."

"We’re so sorry, Boss!" the second man suddenly wheezed, coughing up blood as he begged from where his head hung low. "Please... give us another chance! We’ll go back out tonight! We’ll find the Valenti boy and fix this!"

In my world, a single mistake didn't just delay a plan it started a bloody war between families.

It exposed vulnerabilities that our rivals would exploit

without a second thought. There was no room for second

chances. There was no room for weak, careless men who couldn't tell a high-value target from an innocent

bystander.

I turned my eyes toward the deep shadows near the entrance, where my right-hand man stood perfectly still, like a shadow against the brickwork.

"Marco."

"Yes, Boss," Marco replied instantly, stepping forward into the pool of yellow overhead light.

"Where is the boy?"

"He’s in the east wing of the main estate," Marco reported in a quiet, measured voice. "Dr. Moretti examined him personally this morning while he was still out cold.

Aside from the heavy dose of sedative and a few minor red marks on his wrists from the restraint straps, he’s uninjured. He woke up about an hour ago... screaming and pounding on the door."

I nodded once, setting the silver dagger back down onto the steel table with a quiet, decisive clink.

"Good."

The two bound men looked up at me, a desperate, pathetic flicker of hope washing across their bloody faces. They assumed my calm tone meant forgiveness. They assumed my quiet disposition meant they were getting off with a warning.

They were remarkably foolish.

"Take them away," I said softly, turning my back on them to walk toward the far end of the room.

The color drained from their faces in an instant.

"B-Boss! Please!"

"We can fix this! Boss, please give us one more chance!"

"Don't do this! Have mercy!"

Their desperate, echoing screams bounced off the high concrete walls as four of my armed guards stepped out from the darkness, grabbing the chairs and dragging them forcefully through the heavy metal side doors. A second later, the thick iron doors slammed shut with a deafening boom, cutting off their panicked cries entirely.

Silence settled back over the warehouse.

Marco remained standing exactly where he was, waiting patiently for my next directive. He had been with me long enough to know better than to speak out of turn.

"What should we do with the boy, Boss?" Marco finally asked, his tone completely neutral. "He isn't connected to the Valenti family. He has no strategic value to us, and keeping a civilian on the estate is a risk we don't need."

I walked over to the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window at the edge of the warehouse floor, looking out over the distant, glowing skyline of Rome.

The kid wasn't the target. He had nothing to do with the war currently brewing in the city's underbelly. He was just a regular student a young guy who happened to walk out of a club at the absolute worst second possible.

Yet, by pure bad luck, fate had thrown him directly into the center of my world.

If I released him right now, he could run straight to the police or describe my men to the wrong people in the city. But if I kept him locked up in my house, I was holding a completely innocent civilian hostage.

Neither option sat well with me.

I stood there in silence for a long time, watching the city lights flicker against the night sky, weighing the consequences of every move. Finally, I turned back toward Marco.

"Bring him to my study."

Marco bowed his head respectfully. "Right away, Boss."

As Marco slipped out through the side entrance, I leaned back against the window frame, staring at my own reflection in the dark glass.

For the first time in years, a variable had entered my territory that I hadn't calculated for. And in just a few minutes, I was going to stand face-to-face with a terrified stranger whose entire life was now hanging entirely in my hands.