Owned By Massimo

Chapter 10-You Owe Me

Massimo's POV

Markus turned in his seat, his face still pale with shock, and handed me his phone without another word. My fingers closed around it, and the second my eyes landed on the screen, a harsh laugh ripped out of my chest. It wasn’t a happy sound. It was dark, bitter, and full of disbelief. The kind of laugh that came when the universe decided to f**k with you in the most twisted way possible.

“You’ve got to be joking,” I muttered, staring hard at the screen. I couldn’t look away. For years my men had searched for this exact thing and came up with nothing but dead ends and ghosts. Now here it was…dropped right into my lap like some sick gift from fate. Fate with a twisted sense of humor, throwing exactly what I needed at the worst possible time.

I chuckled darkly, the sound low and dangerous even to my own ears. My eyes lifted and met Markus’s in the rearview mirror. He looked like he was waiting for me to explode.

“Don…what are we going to do?” he asked, voice tight.

I handed the phone back to him, my expression blank. “Drive.”

Markus didn’t ask twice. He turned around, put the car in gear, and pulled back onto the road. The engine roared as we continued toward the warehouse. My hands clenched into fists so tight my knuckles turned white.

I wanted to punch something—anything—to release the storm building inside me. The information on that phone changed everything. It connected dots I didn’t even know existed, and right in the middle of it all was her. That wild, reckless girl waiting back at my house.

The rest of the ride was silent, but my mind was anything but quiet. Thoughts raced through my head like bullets.

We finally reached the warehouse district. The moment the car stopped, I was out, slamming the door behind me. I felt like a beast unleashed…raw power and rage rolling off me in waves. My men outside the building straightened immediately when they saw me coming.

“Where are they?” I asked, my voice cold as ice.

Markus led the way inside without a word. The warehouse was heavily guarded, my soldiers posted at every entrance with guns ready. The heavy metal door creaked open, and we stepped into the dim space. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows on the concrete floor. As soon as my men spotted me, they all stood taller, respect and fear mixing in their eyes.

In the center of the room, three men were chained and forced down on their knees. Their faces were already bruised and bloody from the earlier beating my guys had given them. Good. That was just the beginning.

I grabbed a metal chair, dragged it across the floor with a loud scrape, and sat down right in front of them. The air was thick with the smell of blood and sweat. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and stared at them like they were nothing.

“I’m going to ask you this just once,” I said slowly, my voice low and deadly. “Why the f**k were you at my club last night?”

One of them, the one with eyes already half-swollen shut, tried to laugh. It came out weak and broken. “To have fun,” he spat, blood dripping from his split lip.

Markus took a threatening step forward, but I raised my hand to stop him. I wanted to handle this myself. These bastards had caused damage in my territory. They owed me.

“You caused me damages,” I said calmly. “You owe me a million bucks, you fucker.”

The second man sneered through his pain. “We don’t owe you s**t!”

I smirked. For men who could die at any second, they still had some guts. I liked that. It made breaking them more satisfying.

“You don’t owe me s**t, right?” I repeated, standing up slowly. The chair scraped back as I rose. Markus handed me my black gloves without needing to be asked. I pulled them on with deliberate slowness, one finger at a time, letting the leather stretch tight over my skin. The men watched every movement, their fake bravery starting to crack.

Tears formed in their eyes, but they tried to hold tough. I walked toward them, each step echoing in the quiet warehouse. I pulled out a small, sharp knife from my jacket. The blade glinted under the lights.

“Maybe I’ll just have to collect it another way,” I said softly.

Before they could even process my words, I bent down and stabbed the knife straight into the swollen eye of the first man. His scream tore through the air…raw, agonizing. Blood gushed out instantly, pouring down his face as his body jerked against the chains.

The other two started shaking hard, their tough act completely gone. Fear filled the room like smoke.

I turned to the second man and looked pointedly down at his groin. The bravery he had left vanished in a second when he realized exactly where I was aiming next.

“Pat! Pat sent us! Please spare us!” he begged, voice cracking.

Pat? I couldn’t help but scoff. That coward who never showed his face had dared to send these useless bastards into my club. The audacity made my blood burn hotter.

The men were sobbing now, broken and pathetic. I turned away from them, pulling the gloves off slowly. My shirt had splatters of fresh blood on it, but I didn’t care. Markus took the bloody gloves from me, his face showing no mercy.

The tension in the warehouse was thick enough to choke on. My men stood silent, waiting for my next order. I could feel the power in the room.

“Don, there’s a problem at one of our clubs. Do you—”

I turned to Markus with a cold, dangerous look. My voice came out low and final, cutting through whatever he was about to say.

“Let’s go home. I have something to collect.”