Lucifer's mother's words echoed faintly in his mind, a whisper against the backdrop of his seething rage. As he surveyed the c*****e around him, he knew the war was far from over. The taste of blood and the scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, a reminder of the brutal reality of his world- a world where mercy was a luxury he could no longer afford.
Luciano approached, limping slightly, but his eyes were sharp and alert. He wiped a streak of blood from his face, his expression grim. "We got lucky tonight," he said, his voice rough from exertion. "If you hadn't shown up when you did…"
Lucifer cut him off with a sharp look. "There's no room for luck in this game, Luciano. We make our own luck." His voice was cold, devoid of the camaraderie they usually shared. "Next time, we won't
