The day had started normally. Luca walked into the university building, a few of Damien’s guards shadowing him from a distance. He was used to their presence by now, barely sparing them a glance as he navigated through the halls. He had convinced Damien to let him continue his studies, but it came at the cost of constant supervision. Still, he treasured this small bit of freedom.

But freedom was an illusion

The moment Luca stepped outside after his final lecture, a dark van skidded to a stop near the curb. It happened too fast. A muffled gunshot rang out—one of Damien’s guards fell before he could react. Another tried to reach for his weapon, but a blade was already lodged in his throat. Blood sprayed onto the pavement. The remaining guards didn’t even have time to scream before more bullets cut them down.

Luca’s breath hitched. Panic surged through him as he turned to run, but a strong arm wrapped around his waist, yanking him back. A cloth covered his mouth and nose. The scent was sickly sweet, sharp—chloroform. He thrashed, kicking, clawing at the man’s arm, but his strength drained quickly. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the dead bodies of Damien’s men, blood pooling beneath them like a nightmare.

---

Luca awoke to the feeling of cold metal biting into his wrists. His vision was blurry, head spinning. A dull ache pounded in his skull as he tried to move, but his body was sluggish, his limbs uncoordinated.

"Ah, finally awake."

The voice was unfamiliar, deep and smooth but laced with cruel amusement. Luca’s vision cleared, and his breath caught. Sitting before him in a dimly lit room was Mikhail , legs crossed, watching him like a predator savoring the sight of trapped prey.

"Took you long enough," Mikhail drawled. "I was starting to think I used too much. Would’ve been a shame if you died too soon."

Luca’s stomach twisted with fear. He tugged against the chains binding him to the chair, but they didn’t budge. His wrists burned where the metal dug into his skin.

"Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry.

Mikhail grinned. "Someplace safe. For me, at least. You, however... well, that depends on how cooperative you are."

Luca’s heart pounded. "Damien will find me."

Mikhail’s grin widened. "Oh, I’m counting on it."

The door creaked open, and footsteps echoed in the room. Luca’s blood ran cold as he saw Natalya step inside, her lips curling into a wicked smirk.

"Miss me, sweetheart?" she taunted.

Luca swallowed hard, dread pooling in his stomach. He wasn’t just in danger—he was in hell.

Luca swallowed hard, his pulse hammering. “What… do you want?” he rasped, throat dry and aching.

Mikhail chuckled, leaning forward, his gaze sweeping over Luca as though he were inspecting a prized possession. “What do I want? That’s an interesting question, little lawyer.” He took another sip of his drink before setting the glass down. “You see, your beloved Damien has been quite the nuisance. I thought it was about time I took something from him. Something… precious.”

Luca’s stomach twisted.

Natalya stepped forward, crouching beside him, her nails dragging along his jaw. “You think you’re special, don’t you?” she sneered. “Parading around, making Damien go soft. But you’re just a distraction. And distractions can be… removed.”

Luca clenched his teeth, forcing himself to glare at her despite the fear creeping into his veins. “You’re insane.”

Natalya slapped him, the sharp sting burning his cheek. “Shut up.”

Mikhail merely watched, eyes glinting with interest. “Now, now, Natalya. No need to damage the merchandise… yet.” He turned his gaze back to Luca, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Damien will come for you. That much is certain. But when he does, well… let’s just say, he won’t like what he finds.”

Luca’s breath hitched. He knew Damien. He knew what kind of wrath would follow. But the question remained—would he be alive to see it?

******

The moment Damien received the call, the air around him seemed to freeze. His grip on the phone tightened as his second-in-command, Viktor, relayed the news in a rushed, panicked tone.

"The guards are dead. Luca is gone. It was an ambush."

A suffocating silence followed. Damien's heart slammed against his ribcage like a caged animal. His vision darkened, the edges of his world blurred by a rage so consuming it felt inhuman.

Then, the storm hit.

With a guttural roar, he hurled the phone against the marble wall, shattering it into useless fragments. His desk followed, flipping with a violent crash, papers and glass scattering in the wake of his fury. Every muscle in his body was coiled, every fiber of his being screaming for blood.

The glass in his grip shattered under the force of his rage, his knuckles split and bleeding as he let out a guttural roar that sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room. The conference table, once pristine and polished, now lay in ruins as he overturned it with one violent sweep of his arm. Papers, glasses, and documents scattered like fallen leaves, a testament to the storm brewing within him.

"WHO?!" he bellowed, his voice raw, eyes ablaze with unfiltered wrath. He knew the answer even before Viktor hesitated.

"Mikhail and... Natalya."

Mikhail. That snake. That dead man walking. And Natalya—the venomous bitch who dared to think she could touch what was his.

He had made a mistake before, letting her live. Now, she would pay for it in blood.

Everything snapped into place. The fabricated business trip, the carefully executed timing—it had been a setup. And he had walked right into it.

His breathing came in ragged gasps as he raked a hand through his disheveled hair. His blood boiled, his mind a storm of images—Luca, terrified, trapped in the clutches of those monsters. His beautiful, defiant Luca, now at their mercy.

No.

Damien wouldn't allow it.

He turned on his men, his voice dropping into a lethal calm. "Mobilize every soldier we have. I want eyes on Mikhail's safehouses, his business fronts, his goddamn rat holes. I want blood in the streets. I want everyone who knew about this dead."

"Mobilize everyone," Damien growled, his voice eerily calm now. That was more terrifying than his rage. "I want every single one of Mikhail's men dead by dawn. Burn their safe houses, their businesses, their families—leave nothing standing. If they took Luca from me, I'll take everything from them."

Viktor nodded, already barking orders into his earpiece.

The command sent shockwaves through his men. They had seen their boss in many moods—calculating, merciless, even amused—but this? This was something different. This was the madness of a man whose lifeline had been stolen.

Damien paced, chest heaving. Every second wasted was a second Luca suffered.

His fists clenched.

Natalya. The woman he had once tolerated, now a traitor deserving of nothing but suffering.

Mikhail. A dead man walking.

Ava’s face flashed in his mind. What would he tell her? How would he face her if he failed?

The thought of his daughter flashed in his mind, momentarily cutting through his rage. He couldn't face her like this—not yet. He couldn't let her see him descend into the monster he truly was.

"Get the jet ready," he snapped, his voice razor-sharp. "We're leaving now."

As he walked toward the exit, he pulled out his phone, dialing a number he hadn't called in years. The voice on the other end answered within seconds.

"It's time," Damien said coldly. "I want Mikhail’s head."

The reply was immediate. "Consider it done."

Damien hung up, his lips curling into a sinister smile. Mikhail had taken Luca. That was the last mistake he'd ever make.

Failure wasn’t an option.

Damien grabbed his gun, checked the chamber, and stormed out. If it was war they wanted, then war they would get. And when he found them, they would beg for death long before he granted it.

Luca was his.

And nothing—no one—would take him away.