Trouble

Luther POV

I leaned back in my chair, letting the smoke curl from my cigar, slow and steady, like it owned the air in this room. Marco had just come in with the report, and I didn’t even glance at him when I spoke.

“Release one.”

He hesitated. I could hear it in his breathing, the doubt.

“Release… one, boss?”

“Yes.” I flicked ash into the tray, my voice sharp. “The weakest one. Make it look like he escaped while the others couldn’t. When Vicenzo asks, you’ll say he was smart enough to slip out.”

Marco shifted, nervous. “But boss, that could make Vicenzo suspicious. He might torture the man for answers. He might—”

“That’s the point.” I cut him off, finally locking eyes with him. “Suspicion. Doubt.

Let him question his own men before he dares to question me. While he’s too busy tearing apart his house looking for rats, I’ll already have one planted inside.”

Marco frowned, still cautious. “An insider? And what if the guy betrays us instead?”

I chuckled, drawing in another drag of smoke, tasting the burn in my chest before exhaling right in his face.

“Do you really think I’d release someone without tying the leash tight? That man will crawl back to Vicenzo, and he’ll play his part. Because I already own him.”

“How?” Marco asked.

I stood, towering over him, enjoying the flicker of unease in his eyes. “His sister. Sandra. Sweet, innocent Sandra. One wrong move, and she’ll bleed. Tell me, Marco, do you think loyalty to Vicenzo is stronger than a man’s love for his sister?”

Marco lowered his gaze. “No, boss.”

“Exactly.” I smirked, the kind of smile that never reached my eyes. “Now go. Cut him loose. And let the others rot. Their time will come.”

The basement stank of sweat, blood, and damp stone. I walked down slowly, each step of my shoes echoing against the walls. The three of them looked up when I entered. Their faces were swollen, blood drying on their lips, but their eyes still burned with hate.

Downstairs, the men groaned in the basement. Chains rattled against concrete, muffled curses spilling from cracked lips. Luther descended the steps slowly, deliberately, his polished shoes echoing off the walls.

The smell of sweat, blood, and damp stone filled the air.

The four men stiffened as he entered. Fear was a tangible presence, thick enough to choke on.

Luther’s eyes roamed over them until he settled on the one, narrow shoulders, trembling hands, eyes darting desperately around as if searching for escape. Perfect.

He crouched down in front of the man, tilting his head as he studied him like prey. “What’s your name?”

The man swallowed hard, voice shaky. “G-Giovanni.”

“Giovanni,” Luther repeated smoothly, rolling the name on his tongue like it was nothing more than a flavor he might enjoy or spit out. “You want to live?”

Giovanni nodded frantically, tears welling in his eyes.

“Good.” Luther stood, brushing off imaginary dust from his suit. “Then you’ll do exactly what I say.

When I let you go, and I wil,you’ll run back to Vicenzo. You’ll tell him you escaped when the others couldn’t. You’ll play the part of the desperate survivor.

Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” Giovanni blurted. “Anything, I swear! Just don’t kill me—please.”

Luther smirked, bending down to whisper in his ear. His tone was venomous, soft as silk. “Your sister’s name is Sandra , isn’t it?”

Giovanni’s face drained of all color. He froze, his lips trembling.

“Ah, so I’m right,” Luther said, pulling back to watch the man crumble. “She’s… beautiful. It would be a shame if something happened to her.

You’ll make sure Vicenzo never doubts you… but all the while, you’ll be mine. One word out of place, Giovanni, and Sandra won’t see the sunrise.

Do you understand me?”

Giovanni nodded violently, sobbing now. “I understand! Please, don’t touch her—I’ll do whatever you want!”

Luther straightened, satisfied, and gestured to Marco. “Cut him loose.”

Marco sliced the ropes, and Giovanni stumbled forward, nearly collapsing. He looked up at Luther with terror etched into every line of his face.

“Go,” Luther ordered, his voice sharp. “And remember, your sister’s life hangs on your loyalty to me. Don’t make me collect.”

Giovanni scrambled out, running for his freedom like a dog that had just been unleashed, but Luther knew… the leash was invisible, and it was wrapped tightly around his throat.

When the door slammed shut, Luther turned back to the remaining three men. He looked at them, their battered faces full of hatred and defiance.

One of them spat blood on the ground. “You’re a coward, Lombardi. Vicenzo will burn you for this.”

I crouched in front of him, cigar dangling between my fingers. “Arrogance,” I said softly, “is killing you all here and now and thinking that’s the end of it. Patience…” I smiled, leaning closer, “is keeping you alive because pawns are useful. Even ones as stupid as you.”

He tried to sneer, but I could see the flicker of fear. “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” he snapped.

I chuckled, stood, and walked to the steel box in the corner. The click of the latch was enough to make the room fall silent. Inside gleamed a set of surgical tools. I slipped on gloves, picked up a scalpel, and let the blade catch the light.

“Because names,” I said calmly, walking back, “mean identity. Identity means leverage. And leverage means life.”

I pressed the scalpel just under his chin. Blood welled instantly. “Once more. What’s your name?”

“…Antonio,” he whispered.

“Good.” I lowered the blade, then turned to the second. “And you?”

He stayed silent, trying to be brave. I pushed the scalpel into his thigh—not deep, just enough to draw a scream that tore through the basement.

“I don’t ask twice,” I said coldly.

“R-Riccardo!” he gasped, trembling.

I wiped the scalpel clean with a handkerchief, then turned to the last one, the quiet one staring at the ground. “And you?”

He lifted his head slowly, voice hollow. “…Dante.”

“Perfect.” I tucked the scalpel away, taking another slow drag of smoke. “Now we understand each other.”

I walked back to my chair, sat, and tapped ash into the tray. “You three will stay here. You’ll be fed, watered, kept alive. Because I want Vicenzo restless, wondering where his men are. And when I decide, one of you will go back to him in pieces. The rest… we’ll see how useful you turn out to be.”

Antonio spat again. “He’ll kill you for this.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “He’s already burning, Antonio. I’m just the one turning up the flame.”

I crushed the end of my cigar in the tray and stood. “Keep them breathing,” I told Marco. “But remind them every day whose shadow they live under now.”

As I walked out, I let my words echo behind me.
“Fear is the greatest chain, Marco. And soon, Vicenzo himself will be bound by it.”