CHAPTER 24
DOMENICO
I lit the cigar slowly.
The warehouse was silent except for the faint hum of the electric light above me and the occasional scuff of my guards shifting along the walls. No one spoke. They knew better.
Luciano stood there. Alone. No guards, no entourage. Just a desperate man with bloodshot eyes and a shaking jaw, trying to look like something he no longer was.
Pathetic.
I took one slow drag from the cigar, let the smoke curl from my mouth like a ghost, then tilted my head at him.
“You took your time,” I said coolly.
He didn’t respond right away. Just stared. And when he finally dropped to his knees, the sound of them hitting the concrete echoed.
“Per favore,” he said, voice hoarse. “Domenico. She’s my daughter.”
I smiled. A cruel, small thing. “Oh? Now she ma
