SILK AND SCARS

CHAPTER 2

Dawn had already begun to break on the outskirts of Milan, and a pale wash of light washed across the countryside as Vincenzo De Luca, the youngest son of the family, drove along a narrow gravel road slowly. The warehouse ahead of him emerged from the shadows, and his tires crunched softly against the gravel as he brought the car to a stop. He stepped out, scanning the property. He saw the front doors were open. “Something isn’t right,” he muttered under his breath before rushing back to the car, He open the glove compartment and pulled out an Italian-made revolver, checked the chamber and saw it was loaded with a quiet click he c****d the weapon and slowly move towards the front doors, his boots pressing against the gravel with each step echoing faintly before being swallowed by the vastness of the estate, as he entered into the warehouse the air carried a metallic scent, he moves slowly each step in front of the other, then he saw it.

A body, lying face-up on the marble floor, brutally carved across the face with a butcher knife, distorting it beyond recognition, he froze instantly, staring at the body in front of him.

He sighed heavily before stepping forward. Inside revealed more bodies as he moved deeper, his grip tightened around the gun, and his eyes scanned the entire perimeter

Then a pull blood slowly dripping on the floor caught his attention, he followed it to a door, for a moment, he just stared at the door before kicking it open, he slowly stepped forward one foot in front of the other, his stomach tightened while a sharp knot pulling low on his gut, and then he saw it, an old man lay at the center and both hands gone.

Vincenzo stopped and stood completely still, his heart pounding heavily, Seconds later his gaze landed on a black card stained with blood on the floor he slowly picked it up and stared at it, suddenly Sirens sounds filled the silence, distant at first but slowly the sounds begins to get closer, he moved instantly and slipped back into his car, the engine roared to life as he sped down the gravel path.

Police vehicles rushed past him in the opposite direction, lights flashing, sirens screaming, but he continued driving. Only after several minutes did he slow down, pulling off to the side of the empty road. He reached for his side pocket and brought out his phone. Before he could dial, the phone rang. He glanced at the screen for a second before answering, “Ciao, Vincenzo, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, though his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “What’s going on?”

“There has been an emergency.” His grip tightened slightly on the phone. “What happened?”

“Your father… he had another heart attack. This time, it’s worse.” Vincenzo exhaled slowly, “Is he stable?”

“Yes, for now, but he’s asking for you, for everyone; he wants the family gathered.” Vincenzo cut in, “Mother, we have our own emergency.”

“I just came from one of the warehouses in the countryside, the men stationed there, the ones guarding the Russian shipment,” he paused for a second before continuing. “They’re all dead, and the shipment is gone.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“No, but the police are already there. I barely avoided them.” Isabella didn’t respond immediately

“It means someone tipped them off,” he added. Isabella’s voice dropped slightly. “Do you think… it could be one of the rival’s families?” Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

“Then find out,” she said, her tone sharpening with authority. “At a time like this, we cannot afford insubordination, whoever is behind this… they need to be dealt with, but be here before sunset.”

Vincenzo nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, seconds later the call ended. He didn’t hesitate. Immediately, he dialed another number, “Vincenzo?” Matteo’s voice came through. “I thought you were in the countryside.”

“I was,” Vincenzo replied. “And you won’t believe what I just walked into”

“What happened?”

“They hit one of the warehouses,” Vincenzo said flatly. “All the men guarding the Russian shipment are dead. Matteo went silent for a second. “…and the shipment?”

“It’s gone.”

“Jesus…” Matteo muttered. “So where are you now?”

“On my way back, meet me at the club, immediately.”

“You think this is from one of the families?” Matteo asked.

Vincenzo stared ahead; his face contorted with rage. “I don’t know yet, but we’re going to find out.” A brief silence followed before he spoke again, “Get there fast.”

“I’m on my way,” Matteo replied. The line went dead. Vincenzo lowered the phone slowly, then he pressed harder on the accelerator. The city was fully awake by the time he reached Milan.

The club sat quietly on a corner that never truly sleeps. From the outside, it was just another high-end venue. Vincenzo pulled up seconds later, the engine died, but he remained seated for a moment, eyes scanning the street. Before he stepped out, adjusting his coat as he moved toward the entrance, two men at the door nodded immediately. “Signore.” He didn’t respond, just walked past them

Inside, the bass of low music vibrated through the walls, not loud, not distracting, just Controlled. Like everything else, the family owned. The main floor was active, but Vincenzo didn’t slow down. He moved straight to the back, more private and restricted. Matteo was already there, leaning against the bar, his drink still untouched. The moment he saw Vincenzo, he straightened up. “You look like hell,” Matteo said. “You look nervous,” Vincenzo replied, while removing his coat. “Start talking,” Matteo responded.

Vincenzo poured himself a drink of whiskey. He didn’t sip it immediately; he just stared into it. “It wasn’t just any hit,” he said quietly. Matteo frowned. “What do you mean?” Vincenzo finally looked up. “How did they know about the warehouse… and the shipment?” Matteo exhaled slowly. “So, what are you saying?”

“This wasn't a lucky guess; whoever did this knows about our operations,” he replied. Matteo ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “And the police?” he asked. “You think that was part of it, too?” Vincenzo nodded once.

Vincenzo didn’t respond immediately this time; seconds passed before he spoke again. “The timing was too perfect. So, someone tipped them off.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, placing it gently on the counter between them. Matteo leaned in, squinting. “…What is that?”

“I took it from the scene,” Matteo picked it up carefully, his expression twisted as he looked down at the blood-stained card. “This belongs to…”

“I don’t know who it belongs to, but it looks familiar,” Vincenzo cut in. Matteo set the card down like it had burned him, he said quickly. “If this is real, if this is what it looks like, this isn’t just betrayal, this is war, Vincenzo.”

Vincenzo finally took a sip of his drink. Then he leaned forward slightly, “Not yet.” Matteo blinked, “What do you mean by ‘not yet’?”

“I mean… whoever did this wants us to react, to lose control, and we don’t give them that.” Matteo locked eyes with him, “…So, what’s the plan?” Vincenzo’s eyes darkened slightly. “We move quietly,” He tapped the card. “We find out who this really belongs to… and how it ended up in that warehouse, and when we do?” Vincenzo didn’t hesitate. “Then we decide

Matteo opened his mouth to retort, then closed it, the words dying in his throat, before either of them could speak again. The door opened.

Both men turned instantly. One of Vincenzo’s men stepped in, slightly out of breath but trying not to show it. “Signore…” Vincenzo’s expression remained stern. “What is it?”

The guard hesitated, “There’s been another incident.” Vincenzo’s grip tightened slightly around his glass, “Where?” The man swallowed, “At the house.” Vincenzo didn’t blink. The guard’s voice dropped, “De Luca has been rushed to the hospital.” Matteo stepped forward. “Your father”

Vincenzo's grip hardened as the glass let out a faint creak. He slowly set it down and immediately reached for his coat. “Get the car ready,” he said coldly. The guard didn’t hesitate. “Yes, signore.”

Vincenzo didn’t speed. That was the first thing Matteo noticed: no reckless turns, no desperate acceleration, not because of traffic, just deliberate movement through the streets of Milan.

“Talk to me,” Matteo said quietly from the passenger seat. “What are you thinking?” Vincenzo kept his eyes on the road. “I’m thinking this isn’t about the shipment,” Vincenzo replied. Matteo's jaw dropped. “Then what is it about?” “…Power.”