Blood for Blood

Ricardo’s POV

The bass in oscuro throbbed wildly through the VIP court, rattling the ice in my glass. The air was a heady mix of expensive perfume, spilled champagne, and the low moans of two women tangled against me. One straddled my lap, her nails grazing my jawline, while the other knelt between us, lips tracing the inside of my thigh. I liked them like this—hungry, eager to please, ready to forget their names in exchange for the glint of my money.

A fresh stack of chips sat untouched on the glass table, my winnings from the night. My luck had been relentless lately—proof, I told myself, that the universe was finally returning what Luis Renz had stolen from me.

My cut.

My shares.

That bastard had been skimming me for years, hiding it under clever accounting, smooth smiles, and “business strategy.” Always the respectable kingpin, the gentleman criminal. Meanwhile, I was left to scrape from the scraps he decided to toss my way. I had waited, bided my time, taken what I could in the shadows. Every crate I intercepted, every dollar I siphoned—mine. My rightful share. I faintly smiled.

The brunette on my lap whispered something filthy in my ear, her breath hot, her scent chokingly sweet. I laughed and tugged her closer,and just then, the door to the VIP lounge burst open.

The messenger didn’t even look up at the women. He was pale, trembling, chest heaving as though he’d run the length of colombia barefoot.

Better be worth the risk.

“Boss…” He hesitated, glancing at the women before blurting, “It’s your warehouse. It’s… gone. All of it.”

I stilled. The music kept pounding, the neon kept flickering, but everything inside me went cold.

“Gone?” I pushed the brunette aside and stood, the sudden shift in my tone enough to make both women shrink back. “What the hell do you mean—gone?”

He swallowed. “Burned to the ground. Nothing left.”

My hands stilled mid-motion. Slowly, I leaned back, savoring the pause. “Gone?”

“Fire,” he whispered. “Nothing left.”

For a moment, I simply listened to the music outside, the beat suddenly too slow, too heavy. Then I rose.

Something cold was crawling up my spine. Not fear — no, fear was for the weak. This was… calculation.

“Who?” My voice was quiet, but the room seemed to flinch.

The messenger swallowed hard. “We… we found this at the gates.”

He handed me a wooden box, small and heavy. The scent hit me first — copper, thick, unmistakable.

When I opened it, the world tilted.

Inside was the head of Dante. My brother. My blood. His eyes, once alive with schemes and reckless charm, stared blankly into nothing. His mouth hung slightly open, as though caught mid-laugh.

The beat of the club vanished in my ears. My breath came slow, steady — but my fingers tightened until the wood creaked. But grief in my world was never allowed to stay soft. It hardened into something sharper.

I looked at the women still curled up in the corner, wide-eyed and silent. “Out,” I said flatly.

Beneath the head, tucked into the silk lining, was a card. No words. Just a mark — Renz’s seal burned into the paper.

I stood there for a long time, staring. Memories clawed their way up — Dante teaching me to cheat at cards, Dante pulling me out of a back-alley brawl, Dante’s voice calling me hermano with that half-smirk.

The ache turned to fire.

I shut the box with a snap. “Clear the floor,” I said.

“Boss!?"

“Now.”

Within minutes, the VIP court was empty, save for me and the stench of smoke and blood. I poured a drink, swallowed it in one go, and slammed the glass down hard enough to crack it.

“Luis Renz…” I muttered. “You’ve just signed your death warrant.”

“Tell every man we have—every contact, every rat, every snake. We’re going to bleed Luis Renz dry. Slowly. Painfully."

Grief burned, but vengeance roared louder. I would answer him — not with one strike, but with a storm. I would take his empire piece by piece, watch him crumble, and when he begged, I would take his life as he took my brother’s.

I leaned back, the shadows closing around me.

“Tell the men,” I said, “double the shipments, double the guards. And find me a weakness. Family, lover, anyone.”

I smiled then — slow, cold, and sure.

“Renz thinks this is war. I’ll show him what war really is. I’m coming for my cut… and his head.”

>>

The club had fallen silent after the news. The music, once thundering, now sounded like a ghost of what it had been — an echo of a life ripped away from me. Even the women in Oscuro’s lounge sat frozen, their eyes darting toward me but quickly looking away.

A moment of silence for my brother. My only brother.

Dante.

I rose from the couch in the VIP lounge, the leather groaning under my weight. My men straightened as I moved past them, their faces stiff, waiting for orders I wasn’t ready to give.

Each step toward my office felt heavier, my chest tight with a mix of rage, grief, and the ice-cold precision of revenge beginning to crystallize in my mind.

The heavy double doors loomed ahead. I shoved them open.

And then, I caught sight of a woman.

Sitting in my chair like she owned the place.

A woman I hadn’t seen in years.

One I thought was dead.

Her legs were crossed, her eyes glinting like sharpened steel,the same way I had remembered it.

“Hola, Ricardo,” she said, her voice smooth, unshaken. “I think it’s time we destroy Luis Renz… together.”

She leaned forward, sliding a black envelope across the desk toward me — an alliance message from her boss.

And in that moment, I realized two things.

One — we had a common enemy. Renz

Two — work begins now.