★★Leon's POV★★



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By the time I make it back to the house, I'm drowning in thoughts. The weight of the botched mission feels like a noose tightening around my neck. A guard waits outside, his expression unreadable. He doesn't need to say anything for me to know why he's here.

"Tuo padre ti aspetta nel suo ufficio (Your father's expecting you in his office,)" he says, his tone flat and unreadable.

I nod, my jaw tightening. The whole drive home, I rehearsed what I'd say to my father. But nothing sounds right. It's not my fault, but I know that won't matter to him. No mistakes—that's what he'd ordered. And now, all I can think about is two things: the punishment waiting for me and the girl who slipped through my fingers. Who the hell is she? When I find out, I'll make her regret crossing me.

I'll shatter her world so completely, she'll be begging me to end it.

I step out of the car and draw in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. There's no room for excuses, no room for error. My father doesn't tolerate weakness. His words echo in my head like a drumbeat: A leader never makes mistakes.

The walk to his office feels endless. My legs are heavy, and every step stretches the silence. By the time I reach the door, my chest feels like it's caught in a vice. But I can't let it show. I force my back straight, my head high, and push the door open.

The tension in the air hits me like a wall. My father is standing with his back to me, calmly pouring himself a drink. The sight of him—so composed, so unaffected—makes the knot in my stomach tighten. I cross the room, sitting down in the chair across from his desk. My arms rest on the armrests, stiff and deliberate, and I wait. I know better than to speak first.

He takes his time.

He turns around with his glass in hand but doesn't look at me. Instead, he sits, takes a long sip, and sets the glass down on the desk with a soft click.

The silence is deafening. My heart pounds in my chest, but I don't let it show. I sit still, waiting, ready to take whatever he's about to throw at me.

The silence was shattered by the sharp edge of my father's voice.

"Repeat the one thing I always say to you, Leon." His hand gripped the glass so tightly, I half-expected it to shatter. His tone was controlled, but barely—like if he said too much, he'd hurl the glass across the room.

I stared back at him, my face emotionless, like stone. "A leader never makes a mistake," I said, carefully keeping the anger out of my voice. No need to fuel the fire already raging in his head.

That's when he looked at me—really looked at me. His eyes, cold and devoid of any shred of humanity, locked onto mine. They weren't the eyes of a father, not anymore. I lost that man long ago, the day he decided his fists were better at making a point than his words. There wasn't love in those eyes—just expectation.

"Do you even know what that means?" he asked, his voice low and venomous. He leaned forward, his fury barely contained, radiating off him like heat.

I hesitated.

Not because I didn't have an answer, but because I needed a second to keep myself together. My grip tightened on the armrests of the chair. If I looked at him for even a moment longer, I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold myself back. My jaw clenched as I forced my gaze to the side.

"Yes, sir—"

Before I could finish, the sound of glass shattering exploded behind me. My head snapped back to him in an instant, though I kept my composure. The shards glittered on the floor, scattered like stars. My chest tightened, but I didn't flinch. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

My jaw tightened further, and I exhaled sharply through my nose, my patience hanging by a thread.

He stood abruptly, dragging his hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. No, not an animal—a rabid dog. That's what he was.

"Allora dimmi, (Then tell me)," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble as he turned to face me. His fists slammed onto the desk, his body leaning in with menacing intent. "Why the hell did I just get a call from one of my men telling me every single member of the cartel we were dealing with got slaughtered? Hmm?!"

His voice hit like a whip, but I kept my expression steady. My insides burned with frustration, but I didn't let it show. Not to him. Never to him.

I kept my voice steady, my expression unreadable. "We swept the premises thoroughly. No signs of interference—at least, not at first." I paused, choosing my words carefully before continuing. "Group B had the north side secured, everything under control, until the comms exploded with screams. By the time we got there, it was already a massacre. Bodies everywhere—cartel bodies."

I hesitated for a heartbeat, my words catching in my throat. I couldn't tell him everything. Definitely not the part about some of his men being dead. And worse, that it was the work of a single girl.

"And?" His voice cut like a blade, sharp and impatient. "And what, Leon?!"

ChatGPT said:

I exhaled through my nose, maintaining control, not giving an inch. "Some of your men were already dead when we arrived," I said, my tone firm, unwavering.

His eyes burned into me, fury rippling across his face like a storm. "From who?" he demanded, slamming his fist on the desk so hard the wood groaned under the impact. His voice thundered through the room, raw with anger. "I want them dead!"

I braced myself.

Fucking hell.

"A girl," I said quietly, the words barely escaping between clenched teeth, each syllable carrying a weight I couldn't shake off.

For a moment, silence. Then he chuckled. A low, almost disbelieving laugh that grew louder as he walked to the window, his back to me. I rolled my eyes, shifting in my seat. Great, laugh it up, old man. But then the laughter stopped—abruptly, cutting off like a snapped string.

I barely had time to process it before he turned, crossed the room in two steps, and grabbed me by my shirt, yanking me out of the chair. His breath hit my face, hot and rapid, like a bulldog.

"A girl?" he spat, the words laced with venom and disbelief. His grip on my shirt tightened, knuckles pressing against my chest.

I stayed calm, my jaw tight, my fists clenched so hard I could feel my knuckles turning white. My gun practically screamed at me to grab it, but I held back.

Barely.

He didn't.

His fist connected with my jaw—hard. My head snapped to the side, pain shooting through my face. This fucker.

Without thinking, without a second of hesitation, I swung back. My fist collided with his face, the impact jolting up my arm, and for a brief moment, it felt damn good.

But before I could strike again, the creak of the door opening stopped me cold. My body froze, every muscle tensing as my eyes stayed locked on my father's—those cold, lifeless eyes that had haunted me my whole life.

And then I heard it.

"Leon?"

Inaya's voice, soft and uncertain, cut through the air, wrapping around me like a thread pulling me back from the edge. I couldn't tear my eyes away from my father, but I could feel the shift in the room, her presence grounding me in a way I hadn't felt in years. My breath was ragged, each inhale sharp and heavy, like I was fighting against something primal, something dark inside me. My hands were still gripping his shirt, but the anger was pulsing through me, demanding release.

"Leon, don't be like him."

Her words hit me like a weight, a plea that sliced through the rage clouding my mind. I scoffed, but I couldn't look away from my father's eyes—those empty, soulless eyes. It was like staring at a ghost, a shell of the man who had shaped me into something broken. He had no humanity left, no remorse, no nothing—just a twisted ego that had destroyed everything in its path. And it was his hand that had built this monster inside me.

"Please, Leon, let him go."

Her voice was trembling, full of sorrow. And in that moment, I felt it—my grip on his shirt loosening just a fraction. My knuckles burned, but I didn't care. I felt her hand on my shoulder—warm, grounding. Inaya. She was the tether pulling me back, pulling me away from the abyss I was teetering on.

"Come on, Leon. Let's just go," she whispered, the concern in her eyes cutting through the fog of rage.

I turned to her. Her face mirrored mine from years ago—scared, but trying to hide it. She couldn't see me like this. She couldn't see this side of me. Not after everything I'd fought to protect her from.

I let go.

My gaze flicked back to my father for one last moment. His eyes widened as if he was seeing me for the first time—confused, lost. Good. Because he didn't know me anymore. He'd never know the man I was becoming.

I was done being him.

Without another word, I turned away, walking out, not knowing where I was going. I just needed to get away from him. From everything. My fists clenched at my sides, but this time, I wasn't going to break. I wasn't going to lose control like he did. I was in charge of my rage now, not him. Not anymore.

Behind me, I heard hurried footsteps—Inaya. She was racing after me, calling out, "Leon, wait!"

I ignored her, my steps quickening as I moved toward the exit. "Leon, please, just talk to me—" She reached out, her voice desperate.

But I didn't need help. Not from her. Not from anyone. I was done.

"Don't." My voice was cold, cutting through the air. "I don't need your pity."

She froze for a second, but I kept walking, my heart pounding. I didn't turn back as I pushed the door open and stepped into the night.

I just... needed to be alone.

Before I even realized it, I was speeding down the highway, my grip on the steering wheel so tight I thought it might snap under the pressure. My mind... it wouldn't stop. The voices in my head were screaming at me, each one louder than the last.

"Fuck off!" I growled, my voice raw, the words barely escaping as I swerved between the cars, the tires screeching like they were screaming for mercy.

The thoughts were relentless, hammering at me, twisting my insides into knots. How could he do it? How could he become that thing? That monster? How could he drag me into this—this fucking nightmare? I could feel the rage bubbling in my chest, a fire threatening to burn me alive from the inside out.

I'm not him, I'm not him, I'm not him...

But then, like an unwanted shadow, the doubt crept in.

Am I?

No, fuck that. I'm not. I can't be.

I slammed my foot down harder on the accelerator, the engine roaring like it was feeding off my anger, the wind rushing past my face, but it didn't drown out the noise in my head. It never did.

"Stop, just stop," one part of me whispered, soft, calm, too calm—almost too familiar. A voice that sounded too much like my father. Like I was listening to him again, from the inside out.

You're losing control.

I could feel the blood pounding in my temples, my heart thudding in my chest like a drumbeat that matched the chaos in my mind.

"Don't you dare let him win," the other part of me snarled back, fighting, begging for a release. I could feel my pulse in my ears now, each beat making my head feel heavier, like the walls were closing in.

You're better than this. You don't have to be like him.

But it was too late. The words kept coming, spinning out of control, like my mind was a broken record, skipping, repeating over and over.

What if you are? What if you're exactly like him and you don't even realize it yet?

My hands were shaking, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles ached, as if I could hold onto something—anything—to keep from losing myself completely. "Shut the fuck up!" I shouted into the empty car, my voice cracking under the strain, but it didn't stop.

It never stopped.

The voices, the thoughts, the confusion, the rage—they all merged into one deafening scream in my head, and I couldn't escape it. I couldn't escape myself.

I made it to one of our headquarters, the place where the girl was taken. All of this—the chaos, the mess—wouldn't have happened if she hadn't fucked everything up. She had no idea what she was dealing with, but now she would. She made her choice, and in doing so, she turned me into something I never wanted to be.

And for that? She would pay. Not quickly. Not mercifully. I would make her beg me to end it. I would make her wish she'd never crossed me. There would be no room for forgiveness, no second chances, no escape. Her life would end in the most painful way imaginable, and she wouldn't see it coming.

As I pulled up to the gates, they opened without hesitation. The guard gave me a nod, barely daring to meet my eyes. I drove through, my mind still a storm of anger, adrenaline, and violence from the events that had unfolded hours earlier. The building loomed in front of me—where we kept people, where we broke them, where we made them regret ever taking a breath. Some of them made it out. Most didn't.

Guards stood outside, weapons ready, ever watchful. I sped into the garage, slamming the car into place without care. My boots hit the ground hard, each step echoing with a promise of destruction.

I was coming for her.

And when I was done, there would be nothing left but the sound of her screams.

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Well....what do we think?

I tried to make seem that he is going cray cray...i mean he kinda is?

*favorite drinks?*

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡