☕ Chapter 15 —THE BLOOD PACT
377 Words
The call came just after midnight.
Luciano was in his study, reviewing intel on the Mancini family’s latest movements, when his phone buzzed. A single message. No sender. Just a photo.
Elias. Bound. Bloodied. Kneeling in a warehouse lit by a single overhead bulb.
Luciano’s breath stopped.
He stood slowly, the phone trembling in his hand. His men rushed in at the sound of the shattered glass — Luciano had thrown the device against the wall.
“They took him,” he said, voice hollow. “Mancini.”
The room fell silent.
Luciano turned to his second-in-command. “Find him. Now.”
“But sir—”
“I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care who we burn. Elias is mine.”
The words weren’t shouted. They were carved from stone.
Meanwhile, Elias sat in the cold warehouse, wrists raw from the ropes. His captors didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to. Their message was clear: Luciano had gone soft. Elias was leverage.
But Elias knew better.
Luciano wasn’t soft.
He was fire waiting for fuel.
Hours passed. Elias’s head lolled forward, blood dripping from a split lip. He thought of the collar — still untouched in its velvet box. He thought of the way Luciano had held him, not as a possession, but as a promise.
Then — chaos.
The door exploded inward. Smoke. Gunfire. Screams.
Luciano stormed in, eyes blazing, gun in hand. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t miss. His men followed, swift and silent.
Elias blinked through the haze. Luciano was there, kneeling beside him, cutting the ropes with a blade.
“You came,” Elias whispered.
Luciano pulled him close. “I told you. You’re mine.”
A bullet whizzed past — and Luciano turned, shielding Elias with his body.
The shot landed.
Luciano grunted, staggering, blood blooming across his shoulder.
“No!” Elias cried, catching him as he fell.
Luciano’s hand gripped Elias’s wrist. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
Elias held him, trembling. “You took a bullet for me.”
Luciano smiled faintly. “I’d take ten.”
And as the sirens wailed and the smoke cleared, Elias realized something terrifying — and beautiful.
Luciano hadn’t just risked his empire.
He’d risked himself.
For love.
- Writer
