Rob Lucci Figure Novels & Stories

waiting. Meanwhile, an expensive-looking black Rolls-Royce pulled up at the far end of the estate, far from the front entrance. There was a noticeable shift in the air—an almost imperceptible ripple of tension moving through the manor as Luciano De Luca stepped out of the car, his senses on alert once again as his eyes fervently scanned the area. Dressed in black pants, a suit, and a shirt, paired with expensive, shiny Italian shoes, his expression unreadable...cold and calculating, his confident and powerful aura coming off him in waves.

My men stayed behind me, watchful, their hands no more than a few inches from their weapons. I exited the vehicle. The nighttime air was cold, nipping, with the salt scent from the dockyards in the area. And I felt it. That presence. Dark. Heavy. Menacing. Rocco De Luca emerged between the crates, from out of the darkness. Black shirt, black pants, sleeves rolled up high enough to reveal the tattoos on his arms. His eyes clapped onto me for a moment. Not a glance. Not a nod of respect. A lock. As if a wolf detecting the scent of blood in the water.

A half-naked dancer slid around a chrome pole like she was born wrapped in metal, while the crowd hooted like animals in heat. Blood-red chandeliers swayed above leather couches. Crystal glasses sparkled with things that burned worse than fire. And at the far end—like a throne carved in shadow—sat Luciano. Goddamn Lucifer in a tailored suit. Black shirt, no tie. A glinting silver ring shaped like a lion’s head wrapped around his middle finger. His eyes scanned the club like a king bored with his kingdom. Next to him, half-drunk and draped in arrogance, was Marco, his right hand, who looked like he’d enjoy peeling a man’s skin just to hear the scream.

Nonetheless, Antonio requires two hands to hold Robin's single hand. “I can’t. I’m sorry, sir.” “Stop it, Robin Luciano!” Larry was already behind them. Robin was surprised, which caught him off guard. Antonio also quickly snatched Robin's gun, as he always did when confronted with a naughty business opponent who attempted to attack Robin from close range. Antonio is more adept at protection because he is always Robin's shield. It did not take long for him to lock the revolver, turn the cylinder, and remove all of the bullets.

Items were paraded onto a central platform, there were rare firearms, paintings, codes and trade routes, even contracts bound in blood. And then he heard a voice. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d see you here, Moretti.” A man approached their booth, all swagger and cheap cologne, his smile a crooked mess of arrogance and filler teeth. A heavy gold watch clung to his wrist, screaming new money. Luca didn’t recognize him, but Damian clearly did. “Marchello,” Damian said coolly, sipping his drink. “I thought you had better taste than to bring strays to events like this,” Marchello said with a pointed look at Luca. “Or maybe you’re just getting sentimental in your old age.”

Then I spotted Rob and Vic, they were seated in a corner booth, Rob already sipping something with a lime twist, while Vic leaned back with a grin like he owned the place. “Look who finally decided to show up,” Rob said, grinning. Vic stood and pulled me into a tight, back-slapping hug. “Luca freaking de Luca. Still angry at the world, huh?”

Robert roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. From the corner of my eye, I saw a tall dark skinned man with dark hair and a scar on his cheek, standing atop a shipping container with a gun in his hand. “DiFronzo!” Luca called out, his fake enthusiasm. “It has been a long time.Did you miss me?” Robert’s jaw tightened, his grip on his weapon firm. “Stay here,” he said to me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Like hell,” I muttered, following him as he climbed onto the container.

“Russo ordered a hit. From his cell. Target’s you.” She set the cup down, her expression unreadable. “And the man?” “Renzo Bellucci. Ex-dock hand. Grieving. Angry. Perfect weapon.” Livia stood, walking to the armoury cabinet hidden behind a bookshelf. She pulled out a compact pistol, checked the magazine, slid it into her waistband. “He won’t reach the safehouse.” “You’re not going out there,” Alessandro said, his voice sharp with warning. “I don’t have to.” She turned, her green eyes steady. “He’ll come to me. And when he does, he’ll learn what Russo already knows—my ghosts don’t walk alone.”

Eyes glowed white-hot, fixed on Luca. Aiden’s stomach dropped. “What… is that?” “It’s inside him,” Rico said, voice trembling. “And it’s… alive.” The figure lunged toward Luca, but instead of striking, it hovered, pulsing with power. Luca screamed, falling forward onto the wet asphalt. His energy flared uncontrollably, arcs of blue light ripping through the street. Aiden dived to shield him, feeling the raw force tearing at his own body. “Hold on, Luca! Fight it! Fight it!”

"And who told you that?" "I'll slit this man's throat before you can even give the order," I declared, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Rocco arched his brows in mock surprise. "Will you, now?" "Yes!" I snapped. "Make your choice wisely, Rocco." Rocco's sneer widened into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "I always knew you had more courage than you let on, Lily Blackwood," he remarked, his tone dripping with disdain. "But if you slit his throat, I'll make sure one of my men puts a bullet in Lucas. I would have loved to kill you too, but our boss' orders were to bring you to him alive."