VEINS OF VENGEANCE AND UNCHAINED DESIRES

Luca’s POV

The pier’s floodlights cast harsh shadows, turning the standoff into a tableau of frozen fury. Sal Moretti’s words hung heavy—“Viktor’s not escaping. He’s joining us.”—as his enforcers flanked him, guns steady. Sofia stood rigid, the vault drive pulsing like a heartbeat against her chest, her confession still echoing: she’d poisoned Marco, twisted by years of buried rage. Dante’s arms around me were iron bands, his jacket barely covering my naked, marked body. Rocco lay tranqed at our feet, but the ghost of his dominance lingered—bruises throbbing, cum drying on my skin, a shameful heat coiling in my gut despite everything.

Chen stepped forward, badge flashing. “Everyone stand down! FBI jurisdiction. Moretti, you’re under arrest for—”

Sal laughed, waving a hand. A new wave of his men emerged from the fog—Chicago imports, heavily armed. “Jurisdiction? Sweetheart, we own judges from here to Illinois. Viktor’s plane? Diverted. He’s en route to our safehouse. The old bear’s tired of running; he’s cutting a deal. Territory split: Russians get the docks, we get the streets. Enzo’s cyber toys? Bonus.”

Enzo materialized from the shadows then, unscathed, his Sicilian enforcers slinking behind. Blood streaked his face, but his smirk was intact. “Not so fast, Moretti. The drive Sofia has? It’s a decoy. The real data’s in my cloud—quantum-secured. And my agenda? It’s never been just revenge.”

Sofia whirled on him, gun rising. “You bastard. You used me.”

Enzo’s eyes gleamed, accented voice silky. “Used? Cherished, amore. But yes, hidden depths. My Palermo empire isn’t just old blood—it’s evolution. I’ve been playing you all: Viktor for his brute force, Sal for his American muscle, the Vitales for their legacy. The hidden agenda? Consolidation. New York’s fractured; I unite it under Sicilian rule. Cyber ops to hack your banks, drones to eliminate rivals. Sofia was my key—innocent face, deadly hands. But now? With the drive’s intel, I expose you all, take the throne.”

Dante’s grip tightened. “You forget one thing, De Luca. Family.”

But Sofia’s laugh was bitter, cutting. “Family? Let me tell you about family, Luca. Dive deep, brother—deeper than you ever knew.”

She lowered her gun, eyes locking on mine, voice steady amid the tension. “It started before the accident. Mom’s cancer? Not random. Dad’s skimming pissed off Viktor, but Mom was collateral—poisoned water supply at our apartment, traced to Bratva fronts. I was 15 when I found her journals—hidden notes on Dad’s ‘business.’ After they died, you buried yourself in college, sending me money like it fixed everything. But I didn’t grieve. I hunted.”

Her words painted a picture I’d ignored: Sofia, the prodigy, hacking public records at 17, tracing Bratva shell companies. “I posed as a runaway, infiltrated low-level rings. Learned to fight, to poison—botulinum from hospital waste, ricin from castor beans. Enzo found me at 23, patching his men after a shootout. He saw potential: a doctor with vengeance. Trained me in Palermo—cyber basics, wetwork. We became lovers; he promised to dismantle Viktor. But it was a lie. His agenda? Use my intel to weaken all sides, then sweep in. I fed him Vitale secrets through Pietro, poisoned Marco to fracture your family. Thought it was justice. But Enzo? He wants a queen for his empire—me, breeding heirs while he rules.”

The depth stunned me—my sister, not innocent, but a shadow operator, motives layered in grief, manipulation, love twisted into control. “Sofia… why not tell me?”

“You’d stop me. Protect me. Like always.” Tears glittered. “But now? With Sal allying Viktor, Enzo’s exposed. We end this—together.”

Sal smirked. “Endearing. Rocco, take them all.”

Rocco stirred then—tranq wearing off faster than expected, his massive frame rising like a zombie. Eyes locked on me, dark and hungry. “With pleasure, boss.”

He lunged, grabbing me from Dante’s arms in a blur. Dante fired—grazing Rocco’s shoulder—but the enforcer didn’t flinch. He dragged me into the container maze, deeper into shadows, his blood soaking my skin. “Time for round two, pretty boy. More intense this time.”

Dante’s shouts faded as Rocco slammed me against a rusted wall, the cold metal biting my back. His dominance hit like a storm—intensified, unbridled, fueled by the wound. “You think that tranq stops me? Makes me harder.” He ripped Dante’s jacket off me, exposing everything. Zip ties bound my wrists overhead to a protruding pipe—tight, circulation-cutting. “Spread. Now.”

I struggled, but his knee forced my legs apart, ankle-cuffing me to crates with more ties. Immobilized, splayed. Vulnerable.

His slap cracked across my face—harder than before, stars bursting. “You liked my cock, didn’t you? Begged for it.” His hand choked my throat, squeezing until black spots danced. Air gone; panic surged, but so did arousal—cock hardening traitorously.

He freed himself, stroking his massive length. “Suck.” Forcing my head down—awkward angle—he thrust into my mouth, choking deep. I gagged violently; he held, tears streaming. “Deeper, whore. Swallow it all.” He face-fucked savagely—hips pistoning, balls slapping, grunting commands. His free hand pinched my nipples to agony, twisting until I screamed around him.

Pulling out, he spun me—face to wall—then assaulted from behind. Tongue rimming roughly, teeth biting my hole, fingers—four now—plunging dry, stretching to tearing. Pain exploded; I sobbed, but pushed back, craving the break.

“Desperate slut,” he growled, standing. His cock rammed in—no mercy, full length in one brutal shove. I screamed hoarsely; he choked tighter, air rationed to gasps. Pounding relentlessly—each thrust a claim, hammering my prostate until I saw white.

His other hand jerked my cock—vise-tight, edging cruelly: fast strokes to the edge, then balls-squeezed denial. “Hold it. Beg like a bitch.”

“Please, sir… let me come… own me!”

He slapped my ass—welts on welts—then bit my neck, drawing blood. The dominance peaked: he unchained one ankle, lifting my leg high, thrusting deeper in the new angle—splitting me. “Come now—milk me, pet.”

Orgasm tore through me—untouched again, cum splattering wildly. Waves crashed; Rocco followed, filling me with hot pulses, roaring triumph.

He dropped me, unbound but broken. “Good boy. Now, for the real fun.”

But Dante burst through—tackling Rocco, fists flying. They grappled viciously; blood sprayed.

Sofia appeared, gun on Sal. “The alliance? Lies. Viktor’s dead man’s switch activated—files dumping online. Enzo’s cloud? Hacked by me. Palermo’s burning.”

Enzo paled. “You—?”

“My hidden agenda, love. Revenge on everyone. Including you.”

As feds swarmed, a explosion rocked the pier—Viktor’s boat? Or Enzo’s yacht remnants?

Chen yelled: “Bomb! Everyone down!”

In the blast, Sal escaped with Rocco—dragging me? No. Rocco whispered as he fled: “This ain’t over, accountant. I’ll claim you proper next time.”

Dante pulled me close amid debris. But Sofia vanished in the smoke—drive with her.

Where was she going? And what final poison did her backstory hold, if even Enzo was a pawn?