BLOOD AND BETRAYAL

Chapter 2: continued...

Victor stood in the study, processing the weight of his uncle’s words when the door creaked open once more. This time, it wasn’t Enzo or one of the regular family members—it was Lyon.

Lyon Moretti, Enzo’s only son, entered with an air of quiet confidence that was unmistakably dangerous. At first glance, he didn’t look like the typical muscle of the family. Tall and lean, his features were sharp, his jawline a chiseled reminder of the Moretti bloodline, but his icy blue eyes held something more—an intelligence and ambition that many overlooked. His dark hair, carefully slicked back, only added to the meticulous, calculated aura that surrounded him.

Victor's gaze met Lyon's, his jaw tightening, though he gave no other sign of reaction. Lyon’s presence was almost suffocating. He was always a reminder of how close Victor’s family was to falling apart. A rival by blood, but not by name—yet.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Lyon said, his voice smooth, like liquid velvet. He stood by the door, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “But I thought you’d want to know that the men you sent to the docks... well, they're not coming back.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re late to the conversation, Lyon.”

“I don’t need to be part of the conversation to make it clear,” Lyon replied with a shrug, his tone casual. “My father’s already handling it.”

Victor’s fingers tightened around the whiskey glass. "I’m not waiting for anyone else to make moves, Lyon. This is my family now. And that includes the decisions.”

Lyon stepped further into the room, his movements fluid, and came to stand near the desk, his gaze never leaving Victor. "Is it, though?" His voice was low, a challenge lingering in the air between them. "The family has always had a certain... structure. You might be the one in that chair, Victor, but there’s more to being Don than sitting behind a desk."

Victor stood a little straighter, his instincts prickling with a quiet warning. Lyon’s presence was subtle, but it always felt like a calculated threat—always watching, always waiting.

"Don’t forget who you’re talking to," Victor said, his tone hard. "You may be Enzo’s son, but this isn’t about family ties anymore. It’s about power. And I have it now."

Lyon’s smirk only grew. "Of course, you do. But don’t be naive, cousin. The power you speak of can be fleeting. The Morettis are a family of wolves, and wolves don’t share easily."

Victor’s gaze never wavered. “I’m not here to share. I’m here to lead.”

Lyon studied him for a moment longer, as though weighing the very air between them. Then, without another word, he turned and made his way to the door.

“Don’t take too long with the decision, Victor,” Lyon called over his shoulder. “A king is only a king as long as his throne stands.”

As Lyon’s footsteps faded into the distance, Victor’s eyes stayed locked on the door. Lyon’s words hung in the air, a reminder that power was something everyone wanted, but only a few could truly control.

Victor’s grip on the glass tightened as he drained the rest of his drink. Lyon was right about one thing—the throne was never secure for long.

But Victor wasn’t going down without a fight.