Chapter 2 The Interruption

~Luciano~

The air in the VIP suite was thick with the stench of five old men's sweat, expensive cigars, and fear.

Dimitri, the syndicate's financial secretary, sat across the mahogany table, sweating through his suit.

“Here are the documents, sir.”

He slid the papers across the table with shaky hands.

“The docks are secured, sir. Vangand Danio agreed to yield the northern shipping lanes in exchange for the truce.”

The documents lay across the table. I leaned back in my leather chair, swirling my bourbon while my enforcers stood like statues behind me.

“Vangand yields because he has no choice. His empire is bleeding, and he knows I'll put a bullet through his head the moment his line breaks.”

“He's desperate,” Dimitri agreed quickly, dabbing at his temple with a handkerchief. “He knows the Volkov syndicate holds every supply line entering the bay. If he doesn't sign the contract, he loses everything by the end of the month.”

“He lost everything the moment he thought he could bargain with me.”

I set the glass down.

“I don't make deals with dying men. I take what they owe.”

Dimitri smiled awkwardly, while the rest of the men at the table shifted in their seats.

A slow smile crept onto my face.

“And what about the shipment that was supposed to be sent out weeks ago? Hm?”

Ferdinand, one of the men overseeing my port operations, glanced at Dimitri and the others.

“T-the shipment has been delayed again, sir. The port inspector changed the inspection team.”

Ferdinand had always been incompetent.

Guess it was time to teach someone how to get things done around here.

“Last I checked, Ferd, we have plenty of money to keep their mouths shut and give us a free pass, right?”

Ferdinand swallowed, his throat bobbing as though his Adam's apple might fall out.

“I-I'm handling it, sir.”

“Hmm... Carlos.”

Carlos stepped forward.

My right-hand man had been given to me by my father years ago as a guard. Somewhere along the way, he had become something closer to a brother.

“Boss?”

“Give our friend here a small taste of what incompetence feels like.”

I rested my head against my palm as Ferdinand shivered beneath the guards' grip.

Carlos brought out the knife he always carried with him.

The blade came down.

“Ahhhhh!”

I smiled.

Oh, such a melody.

“I give you twenty-four hours, Ferd. Get my shipment, or you won't see one more second of daylight.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he wailed, clutching his injured hand tightly.

“You're all dis—”

The brass latch clicked.

The heavy oak door swung open.

A boy stepped straight into the room.

Every guard reached for his weapon in a split second.

“Intruder!” one of my guards barked. “Don't fucking move!”

The man froze.

He was pale and thin, with dark, panicked eyes and trembling hands. His knees buckled slightly as his gaze darted across the drawn guns.

He looked like a cornered stray ready to be slaughtered on the carpet.

Then his wide, terrified eyes landed on me.

My fingers tightened around my glass.

My eyes didn't drop to his face or his trembling lips.

They locked onto his left wrist.

Beneath the frayed cuff of his jacket sat a worn, tarnished brass chain, a specific heavy link with a jagged custom latch.

Something about the chain stirred a strange sense of recognition.

That's when I decided to look at the boy himself.

Blue, alluring eyes stared back at me, dancing with fear.

“W-wrong door,” the boy choked out, his voice cracking with sheer terror.

He stumbled backward and slammed the door shut before a bullet could reach him.

Panicked footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The room remained silent.

Dimitri cleared his throat nervously, his eyes fixed on the door.

“Should we have him eliminated, Boss? He could be a spy sent by one of the street factions—”

“You're all dismissed. You're doing enough by ruining the air.”

My voice was enough.

Chairs scraped against the floor as the men hurried to their feet.

I set my glass on the table and turned toward the shadow near the wall.

“Carlos.”

Carlos stepped forward immediately, one hand resting near his sidearm.

“Boss?”

“Find out who that boy is.”

His expression didn't change.

“Name. Where he came from. How he got into this building.”

I looked toward the closed door.

“And find out why he's wearing that chain. Get everything in five minutes.”

“Right away.”

Carlos turned and disappeared through the side door.

I picked up my drink, swirling it as I stared at my reflection in the amber liquid.

“Things are about to get interesting.”

I chuckled.

Five minutes later, Carlos returned.

He closed the door behind him and walked toward me, a thin black file tucked beneath his arm.

“Well?”

“His name is Vincent.”

“Vincent what?”

“Vincent Danio.”

Didn't ring a bell.

Carlos placed the file on the table and opened it.

“He's Vangand Danio's son.”

I leaned back.

“His son?”

“His bastard son.”

That caught my attention.

Carlos turned a page.

“Vangand kept him hidden for years. Barely anyone in the syndicate knew he existed. He escaped from a trafficking operation when he was sixteen, tracked Vangand down, and somehow ended up under his roof.”

Carlos pushed a photograph across the table.

The same boy stared back from the grainy image.

Those blue eyes.

That frightened expression.

He looked even weaker on paper.

“He's been living under Vangand's protection ever since?”

Carlos shook his head.

“Protection isn't the word I'd use.”

A faint smile touched my mouth.

“Of course it isn't.”

Carlos continued.

“Vangand kept him out of sight. No official records connecting them. No public appearances. No one in the city even knew he had another son.”

I looked down at the photograph again.

“So that's his little secret.”

“Yes.”

“And what is he doing at my club?”

“He sneaked out.”

I almost laughed.

“He sneaked out?”

Carlos nodded.

“He's been meeting with the club manager. Apparently, they've known each other for some time.”

Interesting.

I tapped one finger against the photograph.

“And Vangand knows?”

“No.”

I closed the file.

Vincent's photograph remained beneath my hand.

“So this is Vangand's hidden heir.”

“Not just his heir,” Carlos said. “He's the one Vangand is giving you.”

My eyes lifted slowly.

“Him?”

Carlos nodded.

My future husband?

That frightened little thing was supposed to become my husband.

I had expected an heir. Someone useful. Someone with enough spine to understand the world he was being thrown into.

Instead, Vangand was handing me a frightened boy who nearly collapsed because six guns were pointed at him.

A weakling.

I hated the thought already.

“That's what Vangand calls an heir?”

Carlos said nothing.

I pushed the photograph away.

“Pathetic.”

I had no interest in babysitting a useless nobody.

But perhaps the marriage wouldn't be completely useless.

If Vangand wanted to hand me something so fragile, I could find someone to toy with when the nights became boring.

Someone who would learn very quickly that being afraid of me didn't mean I would let him run.

I picked up my bourbon.

“Does he know?”

“About the wedding?”

“I believe he was informed the moment Vangand signed the contract.”

I smiled.

“Good.”

I looked back at the photograph.

Vincent Danio.

My future husband.

He had no idea whose attention he'd caught.

And judging by the way he'd trembled beneath my men's guns, he had no idea what kind of man he was about to marry.

I smiled.

“The wedding goes on.”

Carlos nodded.

I turned back toward him.

“Carlos.”

He stopped.

“Also, have the cathedral secured. We don't want our bride losing his way again.”

“Noted.”

He left.

I remained alone at the table, the photograph still lying in front of me.

My eyes drifted toward the brass chain visible around Vincent's wrist.

Something about it bothered me.

I didn't know why.

A frown marred my face.

I didn't like things I couldn't remember.

I picked up the photograph.

My thumb brushed over the image.

“Who are you, little stray?”