Chapter Four
1758 Words
After a long, cold day, they finally arrived at Luca’s apartment. The rain had soaked through their clothes, the kind of damp that settled into the bones and refused to leave.
While Luca disappeared into his room to change, Nico dropped onto the couch and pulled out his phone.
“What do you want me to order?” he called out. “I’m starving.”
“Burger and chips,” Luca replied from the bedroom.
When Luca stepped back into the living room, he was dressed in loose pyjama pants and a plain singlet that clung lightly to his broad, muscular chest. At six foot four, he cut an imposing figure without trying. A thin scar sat above his left eyebrow, sharp enough to catch attention without softening his features. Tattoos traced across his chest and upper arms, dark against his skin. When he smiled or laughed, the dimples that appeared felt almost disarming, a contradiction to everything he was known for.
Nico glanced up briefly, then went back to his phone. “Same thing every time,” he muttered. “You look like you walked out of a crime documentary.”
Luca smirked faintly and reached for a towel.
After placing the order, Nico headed into the bathroom to freshen up. From inside, his voice echoed through the apartment.
“So,” he said, “what did the Don say on the call?”
Luca leaned against the kitchen counter. “He wants us to keep monitoring her. No move yet. When her guard drops, we take her.”
Nico stepped out, drying his hands. “Her, as in Elena Valerio?”
“Yes, and we’re still handling the Eduardo situation, too?”
Nico asked, frowning. “The Eduardos from Sacramento? Since when are we doing business with them?”
Luca nodded. “Ramirez Eduardo’s niece was kidn*pped during a buy gone wrong. Carlos hid her somewhere remote. The Don got the location and provided support to help retrieve her.”
Nico whistled. “And in return—”
“Access,” Luca said. “Sacramento market. The Don’s been trying to break into it for years. This gave him an opening.”
Nico smiled, shaking his head. “Man never misses an opportunity.”
His smile softened as memory crept in.
Nico and Luca had grown up together in the slums of Pinshure. Survival had been their first education. Luca’s life had split in two on the night of his sixteenth birthday.
Four men had forced their way into his house.
His father, once a respected mafia lawyer for the Sanchez family, and his mother, a professor at the Pinshure College of Technology, were tied to chairs and tortured in the study in front of him. Luca had hidden behind a secret door in his father’s study, pressing his hand over his mouth as the sounds burned into his memory.
When the men finally left, Luca didn’t call the police. He ran.
The streets became his home. Hunger, cold, and fear were his daily companions.
That was where he met Nico. And later, Matt.
They became his brothers.
Together, they uncovered the truth: Derrick Sanchez, head of the Sanchez family, had been killed that same night. His younger brother, Timi Sanchez, had orchestrated it and ordered the lawyer’s execution to secure his takeover. The Valerio family had quietly assisted.
From that moment on, Luca’s life became revenge shaped into patience.
It was during one of their late-night planning sessions that they decided to approach Don Marco Moretti, enemy to both Sanchez and Valerio.
Luca was nineteen. Nico was twenty-one. Matt was nineteen.
For three weeks straight, they showed up at the Moretti villa and headquarters, refusing to be ignored. When Marco finally agreed to see them, he listened.
Then he offered them a deal.
Work for him, and he would help them destroy their enemies.
He took them off the streets.
And just like that, Marco Moretti became family.
The memory faded as the delivery arrived.
Almost immediately, Luca’s phone rang.
He answered before the second ring finished vibrating.
“Yes.”
Moretti didn’t bother with greetings. “Where are you?”
“At home. With Nico.”
There was a pause.
“Change plans,” Moretti said. “Suspend the Elena Valerio monitoring. You and Nico head to the Wet Zone. Matt and Rafaelle will meet you there. Something’s wrong. Pier Twelve.”
Luca straightened. “What happened?”
“Our buyer didn’t show,” Moretti replied. “And the goods were tampered with. All of them. The men at the docks say the shipment’s been touched.”
Nico muttered, “Of course it has.”
Luca grabbed his shirt. Nico snatched a baseball cap. They were out the door in seconds.
The Wet Zone—Pier Twelve, was where their arms and ammunition came in. Guns, bullets, heavy machinery, all hidden beneath crates of freshly caught fish in case authorities decided to inspect.
Luca turned the wheel sharply, tyres hissing on wet asphalt. “Touched how?”
“All the crates were opened. Bullet seals replaced. Heavy equipments missing.”
“That’s not an accident,” Luca said.
“No,” Moretti agreed calmly. “That’s why I need you all.”
The line went dead.
The city shifted as they headed south. Streets thinned. Buildings lowered into warehouses and dim loading bays. The rain softened into a drizzle that made everything look dishonest.
“So,” Nico said, rolling down the window slightly, “dock problem beats k********g a Valerio princess.”
“For now,” Luca replied.
Nico smirked. “Lucky us.”
Pier Twelve was already alive when they arrived. Trucks idled. Men stood in tight clusters, voices low, sharp. The smell of fish, metal, and seaweed hung thick in the air.
Luca scanned the scene. No panic.
That was good.
Panic meant blood had already been spilt.
Rafaelle approached first, jacket half-zipped, eyes restless. “You’re late.”
“You called late,” Luca replied. “What’s wrong?”
Matt stepped in, pulling Luca and Nico into a tight hug. He had just returned from a mission out of state and hadn’t seen them in five months.
Rafaelle nodded toward a container set slightly apart. “Third row. Left side. The seals look fine at first glance, but the labels were switched. We purchased one hundred and twenty AK-49s, forty-two Glock handguns, and several heavy-duty pieces. A lot of it is gone.”
“And two of our guys,” he added quietly. “Missing. Blood near the shipment.”
Luca crouched, running his fingers over the metal. The seal was new—too new. Clean edges. Wrong serial.
“Who signed this in?” he asked.
“A guy named Tomas,” Rafaelle said. “Temporary. Paperwork checked out.”
Nico scoffed. “Temporary always checks out.”
“Where is he?” Luca asked.
Matt scratched his neck. “Bathroom. Or gone.”
They moved instantly.
Luca headed for the office. Nico and Rafaelle circled the containers. Matt questioned the dockworkers.
The office smelled like old coffee, fish, and old paperworks.
The door was ajar.
Inside, Tomas sat on the floor, hands zip-tied behind him, mouth taped shut. His eyes widened with relief when he saw Luca.
“Well,” Nico said from behind, gun raised, “that answers the ‘gone’ part.”
Luca peeled the tape from Tomas’s mouth.
“I didn’t touch anything,” Tomas blurted. “They paid me to leave the door unlocked. That’s all.”
“Who?” Luca asked quietly.
“Spanish guys,” Tomas said, voice shaking. “Heavy accents. Dangerous. They killed the others. They knew how to avoid the cameras.”
Nico muttered, “Always the cameras.”
“How much?” Luca asked.
“Enough to disappear.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Tomas laughed weakly. “Because I know the Don would hunt me down no matter where I went. And when he finds me, death wouldn’t even be easy.”
Luca nodded. “Smart.”
Matt stepped in. “Then why take the bribe at all? Either way, you’re screwed.”
Luca turned away.
Twenty minutes later, they opened the crate.
Weapons were inside, but fewer rounds. The expensive pieces were gone.
“They skimmed us,” Nico said.
“They studied us,” Luca replied. “They knew exactly what to take.”
“You think Valerio?” Rafaelle asked.
Matt shook his head. “No. Not their style.”
A truck suddenly roared to life across the dock.
“That one scheduled?” Luca snapped.
Rafaelle swore. “No.”
Nico and Matt took off running.
The chase was short. The truck clipped a stack of pallets and jackknifed. The driver bolted.
Luca caught him near the water, pinned him down, knee to spine.
“Who sent you?” Luca asked.
The man laughed through blood. “You’re already late.”
“Late for what?”
“The… uh…”
Within the twinkling of an eye, blood splashed on Luca’s face; a sniper had killed him to prevent him from revealing who was behind the attack.
Immediately, Matt, Nico and Rafaelle ran in the direction of the gunshot, trying to locate the sniper.
Luca held on to the guy to save him, but he was already dead.
Sirens wailed nearby.
Luca had to leave him before the police arrived to avoid further problems and issues.
Later, Nico leaned against the car in his blood-stained outfit, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. “This wasn’t about the weapons.”
“No,” Luca said. “They wanted our attention.”
“So what now?” Matt asked.
They stared out at the dark water.
“Now,” Luca said slowly, “everyone starts making the wrong assumptions.”
“Including Valerio,” Nico added.
Luca thought of Elena’s steady gaze.
“Especially Valerio.”
His phone buzzed again.
Moretti.
“It was a test,” Luca said.
“I know,” Moretti replied. “Tests demand responses.”
“What response do you want?”
A pause.
“All my men. Everywhere. Forget the girl.”
“Yes, Don.
As he hung up, Nico studied him. “That didn’t sound good.”
“It’s worse,” Luca said, starting the engine.
“How?”
“Looks like the war is about to start, but not with only the Valerio,” Luca replied.
And somewhere deep in his chest, something cold shifted.
- Writer
