- mother died of lung cancer when he was eleven. After that, his father’s temper which was already cruel had turned vicious. Bruises, broken glass, words that cut deeper than fists. Luca had spent years watching his mother endure it, helpless, memorizing every detail of what weakness looked like in the hands of a monster.*
Luca Moretti was the kind of man people talked about in lowered voices. Not because he was loud. Not because he needed attention. But because power clung to him like a second skin.
He was sharp, observant, brutally intelligent and the type who noticed everything and forgot nothing. Honest in a way that was almost unsettling. Passionate, but controlled. And when he did smile, it was usually right before someone realized they’d underestimated him.
Luca had grown up an only child in a house that never felt like a home.
Then his father got busy. Bigger deals. Darker alliances. The underworld started whispering the Moretti name with respect… and fear. Ten years later, Luca wasn’t just the abused kid anymore.
He was the heir to one of the most powerful mafia families in the country.
And tonight, he was walking into enemy territory.
⸻
The warehouse smelled like oil, metal, and something rotting behind the walls.
Luca adjusted his gloves, expression unreadable. Calm pulse. Steady breathing. Violence, to him, was never about anger.
It was calculation.
“Three at the front. Two circling left,” a voice murmured in his earpiece.
Luca lifted a hand, wait.
The back entrance creaked open.
Too easy.
Trap.
A shadow shifted and then gunfire exploded through the corridor.
One of the guards dropped with a scream. Luca moved instantly, fast and precise, grabbing the shooter and slamming him into the concrete hard enough to rattle teeth.
“Where is he?” Luca asked softly.
The man laughed through blood.
Big mistake.
Luca didn’t hesitate, he fired into the man’s shoulder. Non-lethal. Surgical. The scream echoed.
“Upstairs— office— please—”
Luca let him collapse.
He didn’t enjoy hurting people.
That was the difference between him and his father.
Shouts erupted from above. More men rushing down the hall. One of Luca’s crew stumbled after getting hit.
Luca’s expression changed, not rage. Something colder.
Nobody touches my people.
He moved forward like controlled destruction. A strike to the throat. A twist, a disarm. Someone crashed over a desk. Another hit the floor gasping. Chaos swallowed the room, but Luca stayed steady in the center of it, quiet, efficient, terrifying.
He The office door loomed ahead.i
Locked
One shot to the hinge. A kick. The door burst open.
The enemy boss stood behind the desk, fear leaking through his fake confidence.
“You’re just a kid,” the man scoffed.
Luca tilted his head slightly.
“Yeah,” he said calmly. “But I was raised by a monster.”
Silence filled the room.
His gun didn’t shake.