"You disappoint me," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "You have zero patience, I was able to easily maneuver you."

"You're just much more skilled than me. What was the point of asking me to stab you?!" I snarled.

"I wanted to see if you were capable of more than rage."

He released me, stepping back.

I rolled onto my back, chest heaving, every inch of me pulsing with adrenaline and humiliation.

"I really didn't kill your brother, Luca."

I froze.

Then my eyes narrowed. "Liar."

"I'm not lying. In fact, in this current situation there's absolutely no need for me to lie. Don't you think so?@ he said, quieter now.

A beat passed. My hands were shaking.

"Then how did I get a letter written with my brothers blood that you killed him?"

"Well," he said. "Things like that could be easily faked...forged."

Damian crouched beside the bed, leveling his gaze with mine. It wasn't pity in his eyes.

"Matteo trusted the wrong people," he said. "He thought he was untouchable. But someone wanted him gone. Badly."

My throat was dry. My heart turned cold.

"Who?" I asked.

"I don't know yet," he said. "But if we work together, we can find them. And destroy them."

I stared at him.

"You want me to work together with you?"

He nodded. "I want the same thing as you do.."

I laughed.

"You think I'll forgive you just because you weren't the one who pulled the trigger? You were still the person that put him in that position in the first place!"

"No, we don't have to be on the best terms." he said. "But I'm sure you'll work with me because deep down, you don't just want justice for your brother. You want blood. And I'm your best chance at getting it."

I didn't answer because I knew he was damn right. I wanted to put an end to every single bastard that led to my brother's death. Including him.

........

The car ride was silent. That kind of silence that wrapped around your throat and refused to let go. Luca sat in the backseat, his eyes fixed on the window, but his reflection haunted him more than the streets of the city. I didn't know where we were going to yet.

Damian hadn't spoken since he ordered Luca to get dressed. Black tailored slacks, a silk shirt with a collar that hugged his throat too tightly, and a silver cuff around his wrist embossed with the Moretti crest. No words were exchanged, but the meaning was clear: you're mine.

Luca clenched his jaw and turned away from Damian's gaze.

The car stopped in front of what looked like a luxury hotel, but the moment they were escorted down a private elevator, Luca understood exactly what kind of place this was.

The doors opened to a cathedral of decadence.

Gilded chandeliers swung over velvet-tufted booths. Red-tinted spotlights swept across sprawl floors and smoke-glass walls. Men in suits, women in silk, and waiters in masks. All of them dripping with power, violence, and secrets.

Damian led him through the crowd like he owned the building.

"What is this place?" Luca muttered, not expecting an answer.

Damian didn't stop walking. "An auction. For the rarest things in the world."

Luca's blood ran cold. "You mean-"

"Everything has a price," Damian said calmly. "Weapons. Land. Loyalty. People."

He placed a hand on the small of Luca's back, guiding him to a private booth overlooking the showroom. The gesture was gentle. It was also possessive and chilling.

"This wasn't part of what we discussed," Luca snapped.

"I'm claiming you," Damian corrected. "Visibly. We both should play our parts properly."

Luca's stomach turned. "Ugh.."

"You wear my crest," Damian said, his voice like silk over razors. "You're supposed to show complete submission towards me in public at least."

He sat, legs crossed, fingers draped lazily over a tumbler of whiskey a waiter just dropped. Luca stood stiffly beside him, feeling more on display than any of the items in the glass cases below.

A few people passed their booth and nodded to Damian. Some stared at Luca a bit way too long. A man in a crimson suit raised a brow in amusement.

Luca hated every second of it.

"I hate the way they're staring at me like I'm your pet," he hissed under his breath.

Damian didn't look at him. "No, Luca. You're way more than that to me. But I don't mind you being one."

Luca didn't respond. He couldn't. His throat had gone dry, and his hands were clenched so tight his knuckles ached.

The auction began. Items were paraded onto a central platform, there were rare firearms, paintings, codes and trade routes, even contracts bound in blood.

And then he heard a voice.

"Well, well. Didn't think I'd see you here, Moretti."

A man approached their booth, all swagger and cheap cologne, his smile a crooked mess of arrogance and filler teeth. A heavy gold watch clung to his wrist, screaming new money. Luca didn't recognize him, but Damian clearly did.

"Marchello," Damian said coolly, sipping his drink.

"I thought you had better taste than to bring strays to events like this," Marchello said with a pointed look at Luca. "Or maybe you're just getting sentimental in your old age."

Luca didn't flinch. He was used to much worse.

But then Marchello took it further.

"Tell me, Damian... what's the going rate for a mutt with pretty eyes and such smooth lips?" He eyed Luca.

The words slammed into Luca like a knife. His vision blurred with rage. He moved before he could think... one step, two...

But Damian's hand shot out, pressing lightly to his chest. "Don't," he said softly.

Luca froze. Not because of the words, but because of the voice. It was clearly filled with rage.

Damian turned slowly toward Marchello and gave him a smile that chilled the air.

"You must be doing well," Damian said pleasantly. "To speak so freely."

Marchello grinned. "I do alright. Made a nice deal this week. Big shipment coming in. You should see the crates."

Damian turned his head slightly. One nod. Just a single nod toward his assistant, who stood discreetly in the back.

Thirty seconds later, Marchello's phone buzzed.

He pulled it out, blinked. Blinked again. Then his smile faltered.

He swiped his screen. His eyes widened. "What the-"

Another buzz.

And then another.

Marchello's face went pale.

"No... That's impossible. You can't-" He looked at Damian, frantic now. "You didn't."

Damian stood, drink in hand, not spilling a drop. "Your entire shipment is being held at customs under an anonymous tip for human trafficking. You'll be lucky if you get out of this building without losing everything."

"You son of a bitch-"

"Oh," Damian added, glancing at his phone. "Also... your offshore accounts are frozen. Wire fraud. Someone tipped the banks. I wonder who."

Marchello backed away, stammering, eyes darting around the room. He looked like a man drowning in the air.

Damian stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Next time you speak about something of mine, I'll take more than your money. I'll take your life."

Then he smiled.

It was the smile of a man who buried people with clean hands.

Marchello stumbled out of sight.

Silence stretched between them.

Luca stared at him, his breath uneven. "You did that... for me?"

Damian sat back down, fingers steepled. "Yes , Luca. I did that because I won't tolerate disrespect from anybody towards you. Other than myself, of course..."

He looked Luca over slowly, deliberately.

"And because I enjoy watching men learn the consequences of their words."

"You're insane," Luca whispered.

"Possibly," Damian replied. "But that doesn't matter."

On the stage, a masked woman with wide and full lips introduced the next item a sealed briefcase with biometric locks, resting on a velvet pedestal.

"Encrypted information," the announcer purred. "Compromising files involving political elites, international bank accounts, and government secrets. It's rare and dangerous."

Damian's entire demeanor changed. He leaned forward, the temperature around him cooling instantly. Luca could feel it.

"What is it?" Luca asked.

Damian didn't answer.

The bidding began.

"Two million."

"Three-point-five."

"Four."

Damian's voice cut through the crowd like a knife dipped in ice.

"Six million."

Heads turned.

"Seven," another bidder called out.

"Eight."

Then:

"Hundred million," Damian said. "Final."

The gavel slammed down.

"Sold."

Luca stared at him, disbelieving. "You just spent hundred million dollars in less than two minutes."

"I would've spent more," Damian murmured. "For what that case might hold? It's a worthy bargain."

"What's in it?" Luca pressed. "What the hell did you just buy?"

Damian turned to him slowly, eyes dark and unreadable. "Something that could help me uncover the truth. Except it just turns out to be a trap."

"Uncover what exactly?"

Damian stepped closer. His voice dropped, almost gentle. "Of who was involved in your brother's death."

Luca froze.

His blood went cold and stomach turned.

He searched Damian's face, wanting to find a lie but there wasn't one.

"Really?" he whispered.

"I suspect. But we'll soon find out."

Luca swallowed hard. "Okay?"

Damian's lips curved in something too dangerous to be called a smile.

"Let's go. There's one more stop for you."

They came out and the blacked-out SUV descended into the beating heart of the city's underbelly.

They arrived at an inconspicuous building behind a casino-ordinary on the outside, but the second the elevator descended past the lowest floor, everything changed.

Thick steel doors slid open to reveal a hidden world.

Gunmetal walls. Blood-red carpets. And guards who looked like they were trained to kill without blinking.

The Vault.

Damian's private empire.

The scent of cigars, blood and old money, filled the air. Weapons were displayed behind bulletproof glass. Men in suits with veiled threats in their eyes paced like wolves. One wrong look could get you killed here.

Luca stepped inside a room at Damien's lead, tension snapping across his shoulders.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He could feel the judgement and curiosity.

Someone muttered, just loud enough.

"What's a male prostitute doing here?"

Someone else chuckled and put his hand on Luca shoulder. "He must be here to suck our dicks."

Before Luca could react, a hand caught the man's arm mid-motion. In one smooth movement, Damian slammed the guy's face into the wall.

The man groaned, blood dripping from his nose.

Damian leaned in close.

"Touch him ever again," he said softly, "and I'll skin your wife in front of your kids."

Silence rippled outward like a nuclear shockwave.

No one dared move or speak.

Damian straightened his jacket, grabbed Luca by the wrist, in a harsh manner and walked to the middle.

One of the older bosses, Tomas Vescari, sneered. "You bring your toy to the table now, Moretti?."

Another leaned forward. "He's pretty. But isn't this a place for serious bussiness?"

Damien circled the table slowly.

"Since do you all dare to question my decisions? You shall treat him with respect or else." His face then turned serious and he started talking about bussiness.

"There's been a leak in our South American pipeline," he said. "Drugs. Money. Ships rerouted and ambushed before arrival."

"I tracked it," Damian continued. "And the pattern always leads back to one man."

He stopped behind one of you-Andrei Petrov.

"You're accusing me?" Andrei scoffed.

"I'm not accusing," Damian said.

He pulled a sleek pistol from his jacket.

"I'm executing you based on facts."

Bang.

Blood splattered across the marble. Andrei slumped in his seat, a hole through his forehead.

Luca didn't even have time to react before Damian spoke again.

"Anyone with any objection?"

No one moved.

"Good."

The meeting continued on for a while.

Later on, in Damian's private suite above the chamber, Luca stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, still shaking at how easily Damien could kill. He knew the man was ruthless but witnessing it firsthand was another experience entirely.

Damian poured himself whiskey behind him.

"You look like you want to scream," he said.

"Because I don't belong anywhere near this madness!"

"You didn't seem to mind when I pulled the trigger."

"I was in shock."

Damian set the glass down, slow and deliberate. "You were not."

Luca's breath hitched.

Damian stepped closer, stalking him like a panther. "You're angry. That's good. I need you to be angry. But don't lie to me."

He pressed his hand to Luca's chest. Right over his heart.

"You wanted that man to die. And I made it happen."

"You're insane," Luca whispered.

"I'm efficient."

"You killed someone like it meant nothing."

Damian leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Luca's ear.

"You think this world has space for mercy?"

He handed Luca a matte black pistol.

Luca stared at it like it might explode.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Use it," Damian said. "Or keep being prey."

Luca swallowed.

"This was my brother's life?" he asked. "Deals, blood, secrets?"

Damian's eyes darkened. He just stepped close again. "You want revenge? Then step into my world fully. Stop pretending you're clean."

There was a long pause. Luca's fists clenched. His heart wasn't just beating fast, it was slamming, as if it too wanted to escape this twisted, volatile space between them.

Then he snapped.

With a low growl, Luca shoved Damian backward hard until his spine hit the wall with a sharp thud. Damian grunted, his jaw ticking, but his eyes lit up like he'd been waiting for this.

"You're not the only one who can take control," Luca snarled.

Their mouths crashed together in a brutal collision of teeth and spit and fury. It wasn't just a kiss, it was a claim and a challenge. Luca bit down on Damian's lower lip until he tasted blood, then licked it off with a sneer.

"You think I'm just your toy?" Luca whispered against Damian's mouth.

Damian's growl vibrated through both their chests. He grabbed Luca by the throat tight enough to make him gasp and slammed him around, spinning him to face the glass wall of the suite.

Luca's palms hit the cold surface. His breath fogged it.

Damian's body pressed against his from behind, one hand pinning his neck, the other tearing at the belt around Luca's waist with brutal efficiency.

"I don't want obedience," Damian hissed against his ear. "I want resistance. I want to break you piece by piece until the only thing you beg for is me."

The belt slid free with a sharp hiss.

Clothes came next, the shirts shredded, pants shoved down with impatient hands. Damian's mouth was everywhere. Teeth scraping along Luca's shoulder, biting down on his collarbone until Luca moaned angry, raw, involuntary.

"Fucking hate you," Luca spat.

"Good," Damian muttered. "Hate me while I ruin you."

His hand shoved between Luca's legs, rough and possessive. He didn't tease. He took. Palming him, stroking him just enough to make Luca's hips buck. But when Luca tried to gain control tried to grind back Damian stopped altogether.

"Beg."

"Go to hell."

Damian smiled darkly and leaned in. His tongue traced the shell of Luca's ear. "Then I guess you don't want me to fuck you tonight."

Luca's hands curled into fists against the glass. His voice was a whisper-shout. Desperate. Furious.

"You're such a bastard."

"And yet your cock is hard."

A single touch lower now dragging between his thighs, and Luca shuddered. Damian pushed his own pants down enough to free himself, grinding the thick, hot length of him between Luca's cheeks with a promise of what was coming. He spat into his hand, slicked himself quickly, and leaned his weight in slow, threatening.

Damian grabbed him by the jaw, yanked his face to the side, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Say you want this."

There was venom in Luca's voice. But submission in his body.

"I want it," he hissed.

"Good."

Damian didn't ease in gently.

He pushed inside with one hard, unforgiving thrust, drawing a gasp so loud from Luca it fogged the glass again. Luca's body clenched around him, legs trembling, hands slipping as he tried to hold onto something anything that wasn't Damian.

Damian didn't give him a chance.

He fucked him like he was owned him.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room, mixing with Luca's ragged groans and Damian's low grunts.

Each thrust was a punishment. A promise and a reminder that Luca was no longer untouched by this world. He was deep in it now being taken by the man who'd torn his life apart.

Damian leaned forward, one hand braced on the glass beside Luca's. The other wrapped around Luca's cock and began stroking in time with his thrusts.

"You're going to come for me, Luca," he growled into his ear. "You're going to come like a whore who's finally found his master."

"F-fuck you-"

"You already are."

Luca tried to fight it. But he was drowning.

In lust. In anger. In Damian's scent and heat and brutal, unrelenting rhythm.

When he came, it was violent. Shaking. He nearly collapsed against the glass as he spilled in Damian's hand, crying out with a sound that was half-curse, half-ecstasy.

But Damian wasn't done.

He pulled out just long enough to flip Luca around, eyes wild, hair damp, chest heaving and shoved him back against the glass. Their eyes locked.

And then Damian was inside him again.

This time, he kissed him possesively while he moved.

Teeth dragging across lips, tongues tangling, hands roaming like he wanted to own every inch of Luca's body from the inside out.

He came with a hiss of Luca's name, burying himself deep, gripping Luca's hip so tightly it would leave bruises. They were shaking, both of them, pressed together, breathless, blood-hot and strung out.

The silence that followed wasn't peaceful.

It was charged.

Damian pulled out slowly, breathing hard, and grabbed a towel to clean them both. When he came back, he tossed Luca's torn shirt over his bare chest.

His legs were still trembling. "Why do I feel like I'm drowning in you?" he whispered hoarsely.

Damian didn't smile.

He walked to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out what he gave to him on the first night.

Then he answered his question.

"Because you are."