Chapter 4: Precision and Possession

​Lucien’s POV

​The air in the boardroom was thick with the smell of cold sweat and fear. I didn’t look up from the ledger in front of me as my head of logistics stammered through an excuse.

"The port authority is asking for a twenty-percent increase on the quiet-f*e, Mr. Thorne. They say the risk is—"

​"Risk is a variable I pay them to manage," I interrupted, my voice flat and sharp as a razor. I closed the book with a soft thud that made the man flinch.

"Tell the Director that if he wants twenty percent more, I want forty percent fewer questions. If he declines, find out which school his daughter attends. I believe it’s time she learned about the reality of unemployment. And by unemployment, I mean her father’s sudden disappearance from the face of the earth."

​"Understood, sir."

​"Shorten your reports, Miller. Words are expensive. Don't waste mine."

Miller scurried out of the room, leaving me with Dante who stood like a statue beside me.

​"Next," I said.

​"The Senator," Dante said, his voice a low gravel. "He’s getting nervous about the new bill we need passed. He's worried about his reputation."

"Senator Higgins has a short memory," I murmured, watching the grainy footage of the man on the monitor.

"Remind him that the only reason he isn't a headline in a scandal is because I own the editors. If he stalls on that bill, stop the payments to his mistress in Paris. Then, send the original files of his 'investment' in the casino laundering scheme to the Attorney General. I don't care if he’s scared of the press. He should be significantly more scared of me."

​I stood up, adjusting my cufflinks. I didn't wait for him to leave. I had a different kind of business to attend to.

​The basement level of Thorne Tower didn't house a gym; it housed a laboratory of pain.

​The shooting range was a long, soundproofed corridor of concrete and steel. But I didn't use paper targets. I preferred targets that breathed.

​A carousel of men, bound and gagged, hung from the overhead tracking system. They were soldiers from the Moretti clan—trash that had tried to intercept a shipment three nights ago.

They were currently serving a higher purpose.

​Pop. Pop. Pop.

​I adjusted my grip on the customized Glock. My goal wasn't to kill, my goal is to torture the hell out of them, and still got the best out of my precious time.

​I aimed for the shoulder of a man swinging toward me. The bullet grazed the skin, missing the artery by less than three millimeters.

He let out a muffled, agonizing scream behind the tape, but I ignored it and continue my shooting, aiming for the next non lethal "weak point".

I was training my muscle memory to recognize the exact boundaries of a human life—so that when I needed information, I could rip a soul apart without accidentally stopping the heart.

Killing was easy, any fool could pull a trigger and end a life. But true power, it lay in the precision of keeping someone right on the edge of the abyss without letting them fall in.

It was like making them die constantly—day by day, night by night. I felt a dark chuckle rise in my chest.

I basked in the scent of their terror and the metallic tang of blood in the air. This was the price for crossing me.

The next prisoner, a younger man with eyes wide and weeping, began to thrash as the carousel brought him into the light.

Through the gag, I could hear the desperate, garbled sounds of him begging for mercy. He wanted me to just end it. He wanted the bullet to find his heart.

​I didn't blink. I didn't even shift my stance. I fired twice, the bullets whistling past his ears so closely they took the hair with them.

"Damn, those ears would make fine wall decorations." Dante chuckled besides me, behind him a loud muffled scream, filled with agony, rings in this cold and dark basement.

Dante is one of my trusted advisor, one that can match me and understand me in the same deranged manner.

​"The fourth one is almost gone, though," He noted. I shifted my gaze to the next target.

​"Revive the one in position four," I told the medic standing by the wall as I emptied the magazine.

"He’s losing too much blood to stay conscious. I'm not done with his legs."

​"Yes, Mr. Thorne."

​People thought a quick death was the height of cruelty. They were wrong.

The true monster was the one who wouldn't let you die. I can't help the grin that widened on my face as I aim for another soldier from Moretti.

All these motherfuckers gotta learn what they'd get when they try to cross me. They'll live and bleed every day, until they wish death will whisk them away and the mercy finally come.

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​A couple of hours later, I stepped out of the shower. The scent of gunpowder and copper was finally washed away by the scalding water.

​I walked into my bedroom, a towel slung low around my hips.

​Anastasia was already there, draped across the silk sheets like a dark invitation. Her D cup almost poured out of the satin kimono, her legs spread in the most tantalizing way across the sheets.

She was one of the few who knew my routine. After a session in the range or a sweep of the docks, I needed a physical release to quiet the hum of violence in my veins.

​She stood up, her hands sliding over my damp chest, her lips searching for my neck. "You're tense, Lucien," she whispered.

​I closed my eyes, expecting the familiar surge of mindless lust. But as her hands moved lower, the image that flashed in my mind wasn't the dark-haired temptress in front of me.

​It was white lace.

​I saw Crystal again.

I felt the phantom weight of her hand against my heart, the way her eyes had locked onto mine with a dignity that shouldn't exist in a place like Casanova.

Curiosity, pride, and a small flicker of desire, all dancing in those golden-amber eyes. ​

I remembered the heat of her skin, vanilla and lavender, and the way she had pulled away just as I was about to claim her mouth.

​The innocence of her was like a fever I couldn't sweat out.

​Anastasia’s touch felt abrasive. Her perfume was too heavy, her movements too practiced. Every time she tried to pull me closer, I felt a flash of irritation.

Her hands on my back felt like spiders crawling over my skin. I shook my head, for the first time ever she disgust me.

​"Stop," I growled, grabbing Anastasia's wrists and pulling them off me.

​She looked up, startled. "Did I do something wrong?"

​"Get out of here," I snapped, the words coming out harsher than intended. I felt a surge of agitation, and for the first time I couldn't understand myself.

"Lucien, what have I done wrong? Please tell me.." Anastasia pleaded, she has always been one of my regular fuck, eager to please me.

​I didn't answer because she hadn't done anything wrong. What was wrong was me. The realization agitated me even more.

This constant, nagging need for the girl in the white mask was becoming a liability.

​"Just get out," I commanded.

​"Lucien—"

​"Now."

​Once the door clicked shut behind her, I picked up my phone and dialed the one person who could give me what I wanted.

I needed to get her out of my system. I needed to break the spell. And there was only one way to do that.

​"Lucien?" Vivienne’s voice sounded wary. "It's late."

​"My private suite at Casanova. Tonight," I said, my voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Bring Crystal."

​There was a long, heavy silence on the other end.

"Lucien... she doesn't do private suites. You know her rules."

​"I don't care about the rules, V. I wrote them." My grip on the phone tightened. "I’m not asking. I’m telling you. If she isn't in my suite by midnight, Casanova will have a new manager by morning."

I heard her sharp gasp, "Lucien.. Would you do that to me?"

"Would you do that to your girls?" I retorted, Vivienne is everyone's support system in Casanova. All the strippers need her because she takes care of them.

She gave safety and choices to the girls who has been stripped out of it since they're young, and I help her.

I don't really care as long as I made good money out of it. Besides, I am also not the type to rape a woman as well.

​"She’s just a girl, Lucien," Vivienne said softly, a note of warning in her tone. "Don't ruin the best thing that’s happened to the club."

​"I’m not going to ruin her," I lied, my eyes staring at the dark city below.

"Send her three times her usual payment. I want to see her tonight."

​I hung up before she could protest further. I didn't just want a dance anymore. I wanted to see if that innocence would survive the reality of who I was.

I wanted to see her break. ​And I always get what I paid for.

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Aurelia's POV

"Three... three times?" My brain stuttered.

"Yes and he wants to see you tonight at his private suite." Mama V's voice came through the phone.

"But.. A private suite?"

"I know honey.." Her voice drawled, "But Lucien is the boss, I can't just say no to him and besides.."

Silence, as if she's contemplating her words.

"Lucien is not a rapist. He is the one who enforce the rules to protect you all."

I mulled over her words, I remember how he deliberately avoid my breasts during the dance, how he had stopped the second I told him the time was up.

"Are you sure it will be alright? A private suite usually only means one thing."

"You can say no if you feel like he's gone too far. I don’t think he’ll force you, but if he tries, just get out of the room. I’ll be close by." Mama V promised.

I bit my lip. It sounded like a solid plan, but it was still terrifying.

I remember the way he almost captured my lips, how his hands left heat all over my body as he roamed around it.

"Is there any way to escape this?" I asked

"No."

I closed my eyes shut, I was torn. I don't want to put Mama Vivienne in difficult position, but I'm also terrified of Lucien.

He is a very powerful man, and word on the street he's extremely cruel and merciless to anyone who crossed him.

"He just wired the triple f*e." Mama V added.

My insides twisted with a mix of fear and a desperate, rising hope. That amount of money wasn't just a f*e, it was the key to my family's freedom.

"Fine.. I'll do it." I nodded, any extra money would help for my situation now. I can pay the loanshark faster and hopefully clear of debts in a couple of months.

I close the phone call and getting myself ready to meet Lucien Thorne, having no idea how drastically my life was about to change after tonight.

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