Luca arrived at the warehouse where his brother was being held by his men. He had not come there to see him since he discovered that he was actually the mole. But now, their father was dead, so he thought it necessary to let him know.
As usual, he was escorted by his men to the room where Rafael was held and the door was unlocked and thrown open by one of the men who had escorted him. He entered, leading the way.
Rafael, once the golden child of the Vincenzo family, now sat slumped on a metal bed, his designer clothes replaced with stained sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt. Weeks of confinement had left him gaunt, his beard overgrown, his eyes hollow. He had been there for so long and had lost count of days.
“Get up,” Luca yelled, his face was pale from disgust. I never wanted to se
