Casualties and consequences


Luther’s POV

I laughed inwardly as I heard about the loss of my men, Not out of joy. Never that.

But the audacity. The sloppiness. The betrayal that bled through every bullet wound. They knew the risks. And I—well, I don’t take failure lightly.

Somewhere in the shadows of my underground office, Marco stood silently, watching my expression shift as I tapped the side of my glass. Whiskey neat. No ice. No weakness.

Then the burner phone buzzed.

Once. Twice.

Persistent.

“Get me that phone,” I called out to Marco without even turning.

He obeyed immediately, placing it in my palm like he was handing over something sacred.

Unknown number. But I already knew who it was.

I picked up, voice cold and collected.

“Speak.”

“Luther.”


Vicenzo. His voice slithered down the line like oil on steel. “Your shipment arrived earlier than expected. But unfortunately, there was… a complication.”

My jaw clenched. “You mean a screw-up.”

He chuckled dryly. “Don’t be dramatic. A few losses, that’s all. Nothing out of proportion.”

“Two men, Vicenzo.” My voice turned razor sharp. “Two of mine. Dead.”

“I’m aware.”

“And yet you still think this is casual?” I stood now, pacing slowly, letting the weight of my words drag across the room like a knife over marble.

“You breached protocol. You didn’t send the backup like we agreed. You routed the cargo through unsafe territory—my men paid the price.”

A beat passed. Then he spoke again.

“I’ll wire you thirty percent,” he said. “I think that’s fair.”

I laughed. This time aloud, Then slammed my fist against the steel table, sending Marco flinching back.

“You think that’s fair?” I said slowly, venom dripping from every syllable. “Listen carefully, Vicenzo—I don’t give a damn what you think.”

“Luther—”

“No.” I cut him off. “Our deal was clear. More than two casualties , I get forty percent. Not a cent less.”

“I didn’t anticipate—”

“Exactly. You didn’t anticipate. I calculate risk. You play poker with lives. The difference between us is that I don’t fold when blood is spilled.”

There was silence on the line.

I continued.

“And let me be very clear—this isn’t a negotiation. You owe me forty percent, and I want it before nightfall. You delay, you disappear.”

He let out a breath. “You're pushing your luck, Luther.”

“No,” I hissed. “You pushed it the second you got my men killed.”

I paused, lowering my voice into a dangerous calm.

“You think I’m just some errand dog in this little game of empires? I built my empire with blood. Every inch of it. You don’t get to play sloppy and throw me scraps. I am not one of your boys—I am your reckoning.”

There was a pause. Then a reluctant reply.

“I’ll be expecting the full forty percent before nightfall,” I said coldly, and without waiting for a response, I dropped the phone onto the metal table with a dull clatter.

No room for debate.

No space for leniency.

I’d built a name that echoed in underground circles from Milan to Madrid—ruthless, unbending, unforgiving. You didn’t shortchange me and get to breathe easy afterward.

I needed to cool off before I did something irrational. Something that involved blood. More of it.

I grabbed a fresh cigarette from the table, stuck it between my lips, and lit it with a sharp flick of my lighter.

The flame caught instantly, the familiar burn grounding me. Smoke curled around my face like a lover’s touch—soft, toxic, strangely comforting.

Marco stood by, silently observing.

“Hold my calls,” I muttered, already walking off.

“Yes, boss.”

I pushed open the glass doors that led to the poolside. The night air hit me—cool, fragrant with pine and the faint scent of chlorine. Moonlight glimmered across the water like scattered diamonds.

My shirt was already unbuttoned halfway down. I shrugged it off, let it fall to the ground, then kicked off my shoes. The cigarette still dangled from my mouth as I walked slowly to the edge of the pool.

I stared into the shimmering water.

Calm. Controlled. Deceptively beautiful.

Much like myself.

Without another thought, I flicked the cigarette into the grass, dove in headfirst, and let the world disappear.

Silence.

Coolness embraced me, wrapping around every inch of my skin like a balm. The pressure pushed against my ears, muffling the chaos of the world outside—the deals, the deaths, the betrayal. Under here, it was just me. And control.

When I resurfaced, I drifted slowly toward the edge, resting my arms on the tiles, my chest rising and falling in rhythm with the water.

I closed my eyes and breathed.

Not out of peace.

But strategy.

Every move, every silence, every pause was a prelude to something bigger. Vicenzo thought he still had the upper hand. That he could toss bones and expect dogs to beg.

He had no idea what kind of wolf he just tried to underfeed.

I’ll let the water cool me for now. Let the silence steady me.

But when night falls…

He better pray the payment arrives.

Because if it doesn’t, I won’t just take forty percent.

I’ll take more than that

The water kissed my skin, soothing the embers of rage burning in my veins. I leaned back at the edge of the pool, cigar between my lips, watching the slow drift of smoke curl toward the night sky.

I needed to clear my head.

Vicenzo thought he could play me — again. Two of my men were gone, and he dared to offer thirty percent?

I’m not some street punk he can throw scraps at.

I took another drag, exhaled, and closed my eyes for just a moment.

Then—

“Sir!”

Marco’s voice broke through the stillness like a bullet through glass.

I opened my eyes. “What is it now?”

Marco came closer, panting, phone in hand.

“There’s been a breach at one of our warehouses. The one at the port.”

My blood ran cold.

“That one is under silent lockdown. Who found out?”

Marco hesitated.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” he said quietly, handing me the phone.

I took it, swiped the screen — and what I saw made every nerve in my body clench with fury.

It was CCTV footage. Shaky but clear.

A woman in a black hoodie walking into the locked facility… completely undetected.

She moved like she’d done it before. Moved past guards, cracked security, and vanished into the cold room where classified documents were kept.

I zoomed in on the frame.

She turned her face slightly — and that’s when I saw it.

My secretary.

Elena.

I laughed.

A slow, dangerous laugh.

That little snake. All those months pretending. Bringing me files. Seducing me with her fake loyalty. And I had almost let my guard down.

I handed the phone back to Marco.

“Find her.”

“Yes, boss.”

“No,” I said, voice cold. “Bring her. Alive. I want to ask her myself who she works for. And Marco?”

“Yes?”

“If she resists... break something visible.”

Marco nodded and disappeared into the night like a loyal hound on a blood trail.

I rose from the pool, my body dripping, my patience thinner than the towel I wrapped around my waist. I walked toward the house, chest bare, head pulsing with fury.

Betrayal tasted bitter.

But revenge?

That was always sweet.

I paused at the glass door leading back inside.

And for a second, I caught my reflection — dripping wet, eyes dark as a storm, jaw set like a man with nothing to lose.

That’s when it hit me.

This wasn’t about Vicenzo anymore.

This was a web.

Someone was pulling strings — using Vicenzo as bait, Elena as a mole, and trying to dismantle my empire from the inside.

And they were getting too close.

Too personal.

Too fast.

And I’d be damned if I let anyone destroy what I built.

So I smiled.

Because whoever thought they were coming for me… had no idea what was coming for them.