Luca's Pov

Luca’s head was pounding when he woke up, the dull ache at the back of his skull reminding him of the brutal way he had been taken.

Now, as his vision adjusted to the dim lighting, Luca realized he was in a lavish yet eerily sterile room, the scent of expensive cigars lingering in the air. Heavy curtains blocked out the outside world, and he could hear the faint hum of classical music playing in the background. He shifted, testing his limbs, but found them bound—his wrists tied securely to the chair he was seated in. His stomach twisted in nausea.

A slow, deliberate clap broke the silence, and Luca’s head snapped toward the source. Mikhail stood before him, leaning lazily against a grand desk, his expression one of amusement and admiration.

“You’re even more breathtaking up close,” Mikhail mused, his sharp blue eyes raking over Luca with something sickeningly close to reverence. “No wonder Damien is so obsessed. If I had someone like you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight either.”

Luca clenched his jaw, refusing to give any reaction. He knew men like Mikhail—predators who fed on fear. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Mikhail smirked at Luca’s silence and took a step closer, reaching out as if to touch his face. Luca jerked away, his lip curling in disgust.

“I could give you so much more than Damien ever could,” Mikhail continued, his tone smooth, persuasive. “He is a monster, Luca. A man who thrives on violence, on cruelty. You think he truly loves you? No. You’re just another thing for him to own. But with me? You’d be free. Cherished.”

Luca let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Free?” His voice was hoarse, but sharp with defiance. “You kidnapped me, tied me up, and now you’re spewing this bullshit about freedom?”

Mikhail chuckled, as if entertained by Luca’s fire. “Ah, but you don’t understand. I only had to take you because Damien would never willingly let you go. You’re his weakness, and I intend to use that. But that doesn’t mean I can’t offer you something better in the process. I could give you the world, Luca. No more cages, no more brutality—just comfort, luxury, a life where you’d never have to lift a finger.”

Luca’s blood boiled at the audacity. He stared at Mikhail, disgust crawling up his spine. Then, without a second thought, he gathered every ounce of spit in his mouth and hurled it onto Mikhail’s face.

The room fell into dead silence.

Mikhail froze, his expression unreadable as the saliva dripped down his cheek. Luca refused to break eye contact, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the force of his fury.

Then, slowly, Mikhail wiped his face with the back of his hand. When he looked at Luca again, the amusement had vanished, replaced with something dark, something dangerous.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was eerily calm, but Luca could see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Luca’s heart pounded, but he lifted his chin defiantly. “Go to hell.”

Mikhail’s smirk returned, though now it was twisted with something cruel. “Oh, my dear Luca,” he murmured, stepping closer, placing a hand on the armrest of Luca’s chair. “If you think Damien is the worst monster you’ll ever encounter, you haven’t even begun to see what I’m capable of.”

Luca swallowed, but he didn’t let his fear show. He had no doubt Damien was coming for him. And when he did, Mikhail would regret ever laying a hand on him.

******* Luca's breathing was uneven, his wrists raw from the restraints biting into his skin. Mikhail stood in front of him, A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but his eyes were dark with something far more dangerous than amusement.

"Fiery, aren't you?" Mikhail mused, shaking his head as if he were dealing with a rebellious pet rather than a man tied to a chair in his own private hell. "I like that. It'll make breaking you all the more enjoyable."

Luca glared at him, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "You think I'll ever let you touch me?" he hissed. "You're insane."

Mikhail chuckled, stepping closer until he was mere inches away. "Oh, my dear Luca," he murmured, his fingers tilting Luca’s chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Everyone has a breaking point. Even you."

Luca jerked his head away, disgust curling in his stomach. But Mikhail’s grip was firm, his fingers tightening just enough to remind Luca that he was in control. "I see why Damien is so obsessed with you," Mikhail said, his voice laced with mock admiration. "That delicate face, those defiant eyes. It’s infuriating and intoxicating at the same time."

Luca clenched his jaw. "You don’t know anything about him."

Mikhail laughed, a deep, sinister sound. "Don’t I? I know him better than you think, sweetheart. And I know exactly how this will drive him mad." He traced a cold finger down Luca’s cheek. "Imagine his face when he realizes he’s too late to save you."

Luca didn’t let the words sink in, didn’t let the fear show. Instead, he leaned forward as much as his restraints allowed, voice dripping with venom. "If you think you can break me, you’re even more pathetic than I thought."

Mikhail’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before his hand snapped across Luca’s face. The force of the slap sent Luca’s head jerking to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. He swallowed hard, refusing to give Mikhail the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

"Still so stubborn," Mikhail mused, shaking his head before grabbing Luca’s chin again, forcing him to look up. "That’s fine. I have all the time in the world to fix that."

Before Luca could spit another insult at him, the door swung open, one of Mikhail’s men stepping inside. "Boss, Damien's back in the city. He knows."

A slow grin stretched across Mikhail’s face. "Good," he said, releasing Luca’s chin and straightening his jacket. "Let’s see just how far Damien will go for you."

Luca’s stomach twisted. He knew Damien would come for him. But at what cost?

***** Damien's pov

Damien’s knuckles were split open, raw from the countless times they had slammed into bone, flesh, and cartilage. His entire world was painted in red—blood splattered across his suit, his face, his hands, his mind. The scent of iron filled his lungs, the taste of his own rage sat heavy on his tongue. Yet, he was no closer to finding Luca.

His men were silent, afraid to utter a single word that might push him further over the edge. The air in the underground warehouse was thick with the scent of death and suffering. Bodies littered the ground, some still twitching, some already cold. Damien had torn through Mikhail’s men like a demon unleashed from hell, but none of them had given him what he wanted.

Luca. Where the fuck was Luca?

A man whimpered at his feet, clutching his broken leg, his fingers shaking as he tried to push himself away from Damien. His eye was swollen shut, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle. He had given false information—Damien had made sure he’d regret it.

“Last chance,” Damien said, his voice low, guttural, inhuman. “Where is he?”

The man could only sob, snot and blood mixing as he trembled under Damien’s gaze. No answer. No fucking answer. Damien’s patience snapped. In a blur of movement, he grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him off the ground as he struggled uselessly.

“Worthless,” Damien spat before twisting his neck with a sickening crack. He let the body drop, stepping over it like discarded trash. His men flinched but remained silent. They had never seen him like this before. No one had. This was beyond anger. Beyond possession. This was madness, raw and unfiltered. The entire city would burn before he let Mikhail keep Luca another second longer.

He turned to the next captive, strapped to a chair, his face already a mess of bruises and blood. Damien crouched, gripping the man’s chin and forcing his head up.

“You work for Mikhail,” Damien murmured, almost gently. “You’ve seen him. You know what he does.”

The man swallowed, eyes darting around desperately, looking for an escape that didn’t exist. Damien’s grip tightened, nails digging into flesh.

“You have one chance,” Damien whispered, pressing his forehead against the man’s, his breath hot and filled with murder. “Tell me where he took Luca… or I will make you wish for a death that won’t come.”

The man gasped, his body shaking uncontrollably. “H-He…”

Damien’s other hand closed around a knife, pressing the cold metal against the man’s cheek. He didn’t have time for hesitation. The blade dug in just slightly, enough to break the skin, enough to make the man scream.

“Talk.”

The man’s resolve shattered. “A safehouse! East side of the city! Mikhail keeps his high-priority prisoners there—”

That was all Damien needed to hear.

In an instant, he slashed the man’s throat open, watching impassively as the blood gushed out, pooling onto the floor. He stood, wiping his blade clean against his sleeve before turning to his men.

“Mobilize every fucking unit. We move now.”

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Luca was waiting for him. Scared. Alone. Helpless.

And Mikhail was breathing borrowed fucking time.