Savage Heir

Chapter 2: The Execution

Juliette crouched low behind the crates in the dark warehouse. Her heart thudded in her chest, and the boom was deafening in her ears. She could hardly see the silhouettes in the middle of the room, but the weak light of the tube above them broke the scene into pieces: the concrete surface, the crates piled up in rows and their menacing dark suits, circled like wolves around their victim. She swallowed, seized with sweaty hands the edge of the crate.

The kneeling man at center, with hands tied, was shaking. His face was white, his mouth opening and closing in a wordless plea that Juliette couldn’t hear. She didn’t need to hear it. She knew exactly what was going on. This was the mafia, and it was just as merciless as the rumors had said.

She had tracked the anonymous tip to this godforsaken warehouse on the outskirts of Rome, wanting to catch a glimpse of the Salvatore family in action, perhaps discover some nugget of corruption to feed her piece. What she didn’t realize was that she would witness an execution — cold and calculated, the life of a man snuffed in the wind like a candle.

A man emerged, his back straight, his presence palpable. Rafael Salvatore. The name sent a tremor through all who uttered it in hushed tones in dark corners. Juliette had read about him, naturally. The heir to the Salvatore empire, the notorious mafia dynasty that had a stranglehold over half of Italy’s criminal enterprises. He was all that his reputation described. Gloomy, menacing, and absolutely deadly.

Rafael didn’t say a word as he walked up to the man kneeling before him. He just held up a gun, the silver barrel shining in the dim light. The victim’s eyes widened in terror, his breath coming in choppy gasps, but Rafael’s face remained as cold as ice. Juliette’s stomach twisted as she watched, her chest constricting.

There was no hesitation.

A single shot rang out.

The sound ricocheted in the warehouse, a hollow finality. Juliette caught her breath in her throat as the man’s body tumbled to the floor, blood pooling at his feet as it spread like a crimson stain. She didn’t have the courage to move, didn’t have the courage to breathe. Every muscle in her body froze as she saw the life drain from the man’s eyes.

She was just stunned by what she had just witnessed. In all her years of chasing down corruption and scandal, she had never seen anything this brutality, this definitive. But it wasn’t the execution alone that chilled her but the coolness with which it had been conducted. Rafael Salvatore did not bat an eyelash, did not flinch. He was a man who had seen death too many times to give a damn.

Then came a deafening silence. The men in the room, some nodding their heads in approval, others trading glances, appeared unfazed by the bloodshed. Juliette’s thoughts raced. She had to get out of here, had to go before anyone noticed her. Her pulse thumped in her ears as her hands quaked, and she started to ease herself out of a crouch, only left her feet unerringly quiet.

But then, in the silence in the room, she committed an error that would prove mortal.

Her foot moved slightly, the sound reverberating in the silence. It was barely a whisper, but to a person like Rafael Salvatore, a man who had been listening all his life, it might as well have been a shout.

Juliette froze, her breath catching in her throat. Too terrified to move, she sensed his stare penetrate the dark like a knife. His attention felt crushing, and for a second time stopped moving. Time seemed to draw out as she stood there frozen, her heart in her throat.

Then Rafael turned without a word.

A predatory glint flickered in his eyes as they darted around the warehouse; they narrowed as his gaze fixed on the shadows where Juliette was hunched. The silence was thick, the kind that stretches between two people not in aversion but in recognition; she was no longer a ghost skimming the edges of his life. She was a witness.

His eyes met hers as her pulse roared in her ears.

For a brief moment, the world stopped. Outside of the warehouse, the world slipped away, and all that she had in her sights was Rafael. His bluer than blue eyes pierced through her, calculating, cold, but there was more there, a flicker of curiosity, maybe something darker. Something dangerous.

He didn’t move at first. Juliette held her breath, hoping he would turn, hoping he would forget she was there, that she lurked in the shadows. But the moment extended, and the burden of his gaze grew.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was low, with an edge of authority that made her spine go stiff.

“You saw too much,” he said, slicing through the silence with a knife. His eyes were fixed on hers as if to provoke her to deny it.

Juliette swallowed, her throat dry. She was unable to move, unable to think clearly. He had her; she could not escape those eyws, and in that moment she realized there was no escape from him.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. There was nothing to say.

Taking a slow step toward her, Rafael kept his eyes locked on hers, and Juliette’s heart skipped a beat. Her body wanted to run, to flee, but she held herself in place. If she moved, if she even made a sound, she knew it would be the last thing she ever did.

His hand was near the gun at his hip, and Juliette prepared to brace herself. He was supposed to pull it, end her life the way he had ended the one that came before her. But he didn’t. Instead, his mouth contorted into a slight, nigh-unnoticeable smirk.

“You’re different from the others,” he said, the voice quieter now, almost pensive.

The words were chilling, sent a goose-bump tingling down her spine. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Before she could collect herself, one of his men moved, shattering the moment.

“Boss, we’ve got to move. The others will be waiting for us.”

Rafael didn’t look away from her. He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, then turned sharply, as if to dismiss her altogether. The men in his orbit shifted, heading for the door, but Juliette did not move. She hadn’t noticed that her legs had lost feeling. She couldn’t budge even if she wanted to.

The moment she had dreaded had arrived.

Rafael was ready to walk, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Take her,” Rafael commanded, his tone as frigid as the gunmetal he held.

Juliette’s stomach lurched as two men approached her. She resigned herself to surrender. It hit her like a ton of bricks, and the second she realized—she had only just entered his world.

Her final thought before they found her was that this was just the start.