Chapter Ten — “The Blood Oath”
1260 Words
“Before a man becomes king, he must first learn how to bury the dead he loved.”
Rain fell hard over the outskirts of Rome, drumming against the hood of Matteo Rossi’s black Maserati as it idled on a narrow mountain road. The headlights cut through the mist, catching the edges of a half-collapsed monastery ahead the place where his brother, Luca, was rumored to be hiding.
The drive from Palermo had been silent. Enzo sat in the passenger seat, checking the chamber of his pistol, his jaw tight. Behind them, two SUVs waited in the dark, engines purring like restless beasts.
Matteo hadn’t spoken since dawn. His thoughts were a war, the sound of his brother’s laughter tangled with the echo of his betrayal.
“You sure about this?” Enzo asked finally, voice rough. “If it’s really him…”
“It is,” Matteo said. “And I’m ending it tonight.”
Enzo glanced at him. “You mean kill him?”
Matteo’s eyes stayed on the road ahead. “If I have to.”
He stepped out into the cold rain. The air smelled of pine and smoke. In the distance, lightning cracked over the ruins, a silent benediction for what was about to happen.
They moved through the forest in silence, boots crunching wet earth, guns drawn. The monastery loomed ahead stone arches broken by ivy and fire damage, the cross at its peak bent and rusted.
As they neared the courtyard, Matteo raised a hand. The men behind him froze. He motioned to Enzo and entered alone.
The silence was thick enough to suffocate. Then came a voice — calm, familiar, echoing through the ruins.
“I was wondering when you’d come.”
Matteo turned slowly. Luca Rossi stepped from the shadows, coat soaked through, hair longer than before, beard grown. He looked older , harder — but the same fire still burned in his eyes.
“I should’ve known you’d find me here,” Luca said. “You always knew where to look for ghosts.”
“Not ghosts,” Matteo replied. “Just cowards.”
Luca smiled sadly. “You think that’s what I am?”
“You planted a bomb under my table. You stole from me. You tried to destroy everything I built. What else should I think?”
“I did what had to be done,” Luca said. “You’re not the brother I knew. You’re a tyrant wearing a suit. You burn everything you touch.”
Matteo stepped closer. “I built an empire so we’d never crawl again. You call that tyranny?”
“You built a cage,” Luca shot back. “You think you’re free, Matteo? You’re chained to power, to blood, to ghosts that whisper your name. The crown you wear — it isn’t gold. It’s iron.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened. “Don’t lecture me about chains. You left when things got hard. I stayed. I fought. I buried the men who made us beg for scraps.”
“And now you’ve become one of them.”
The words hit harder than a bullet. For a moment, the storm drowned out everything — the past, the pain, the thin line between love and hate.
Then Matteo drew his gun. “You know why I came here.”
Luca didn’t move. “Then do it. Prove that the man standing here isn’t my brother anymore.”
Matteo aimed, finger trembling. The rain poured down his face like tears he refused to shed.
But he couldn’t pull the trigger.
Luca took a slow step forward. “You can kill me, Matteo. But it won’t stop what’s coming. The people you crushed the families you buried they’ve united. They call themselves Il Nuovo Ordine. They’re coming for you. For all of us.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re working with them?”
“I’m trying to stop them. You can’t fight a ghost with bullets. You need allies. You need redemption.”
“I don’t need redemption,” Matteo said coldly. “I need loyalty.”
“Then you’ll die alone.”
The words hung in the air like a curse.
Enzo appeared suddenly at the edge of the courtyard, gun drawn. “Boss! We’ve got movement — six hostiles coming from the east!”
Matteo’s instincts flared. He shoved Luca behind a column as gunfire erupted through the ruins. Bullets shredded stone. Sparks flashed. Matteo fired back, hitting two men before diving for cover.
“Bastardi!” Enzo shouted, returning fire.
Smoke filled the courtyard. The attackers men in black tactical gear advanced fast, silent, professional. These weren’t street soldiers. These were trained killers.
Matteo crawled behind an altar, reloading. “Luca!”
“I’m here!”
“Then pick up a gun!”
Luca hesitated, staring at the pistol on the ground. Then, with a curse, he grabbed it and fired. His first shot hit a man square in the chest.
For a moment, they fought side by side again, two brothers against the world, moving like they used to in the old days.
When the last attacker fell, the courtyard was a graveyard. Rain washed the blood into the cracks between stones.
Matteo stood over one of the bodies, pulling off the man’s mask. The tattoo on his neck was a serpent biting its own tail — Il Nuovo Ordine’s mark.
Luca leaned against a pillar, breathing hard. “Now you see,” he said. “They won’t stop. Not until every Rossi is dead.”
Matteo looked at him for a long moment. “Then we stop them first.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
“I don’t forgive you,” Matteo said. “But I need you.”
He offered his hand.
Luca hesitated, then took it. Their palms met one scarred from violence, the other from regret.
In that moment, the brothers made an unspoken vow — not of peace, but survival.
Matteo turned to Enzo. “Get the men ready. We’re going to war.”
“With who?” Enzo asked.
“With everyone,” Matteo replied.
Hours later, they gathered in the monastery’s chapel. Candles flickered over the broken altar. Matteo stood before his men, the rain still pounding outside.
“Every man here bleeds for this family,” he said. “But from tonight, we stop being a family. We become something greater. Something untouchable.”
He looked at Luca, then at Enzo, then at Isabella, who had just arrived from Palermo, her eyes fierce.
“This is the Blood Oath,” Matteo said. “We fight for each other. We die for each other. We bury the world before it buries us.”
One by one, the men stepped forward, cutting their palms and letting their blood drip into the basin of holy water.
When Matteo’s turn came, he sliced deep, his blood mixing with theirs. “From this night,” he said, “we are bound not by love or loyalty, but by vengeance.”
The storm outside grew louder, thunder shaking the walls.
Luca raised his head. “What happens when vengeance is all that’s left?”
Matteo looked at him, eyes like steel. “Then we’ll build a kingdom from the ashes.”
Lightning split the sky above the monastery, illuminating their faces men reborn in the glow of blood and fire.
And as the bells of Rome began to toll midnight, the Rossi brothers sealed their fate.
The Blood Oath had been spoken. The war for Italy had begun.
- Writer
