LUCA
Anzo hits Domenico in the face with his mechanical hand for what feels like the thirtieth time. The guy’s face looks like raw meat.
"Your one fucking job was to get every bit of intel out of Danielson. One job! And you completely fucked it up. What the hell have I been paying you for all these months?"
Domenico groans, blood trickling from his right nostril. He looks grotesque.
"Danielson didn’t even know there would be any extra bodyguard! It was some rando from Fate’s Choice! We both truly did what we could to make sure every one of his hired bodyguards was working for us!"
Anzo circles him, threading his biological hand through the thick, black strands of hair that are usually slicked back. Now they’re slightly messy, which is rare for him.
"We kept paying them in case there would be an opening…"
"Yeah, yeah, I remember the invoices you sent me. But if I’m investing that much money into stripping that bastard of his security, I expect him to be stripped . Not walking around with a fucking purple alpha by his side!"
Another hit. Domenico’s head jerks sideways and a drop of blood splatters my way, so I lean back a little. I don’t need to stink of his fluids.
"Please, boss! I swear I couldn’t stop it. The owner hired the guy forty minutes before the whole operation. Forty minutes!"
Anzo runs a hand through his hair again, frazzled as hell.
"For fuck’s sake! You’re telling me we spent two months on this plan, and in the last forty minutes some oblivious asshole shows up and ruins everything?
Hard to believe, Domenico. Or maybe you decided Blue’s money was better than mine and just let it slide?
And now you’re feeding me convenient excuses? Huh?"
And… a hit. Domenico looks totally wrecked.
To be honest, I believe him. No one could’ve seen that twist coming. The owner of the agency hired that bodyguard at the very last second. He wasn’t even on his regular payroll.
"It’s not an excuse, boss," Domenico wheezes. "Danielson said lately Blue’s gotten super paranoid. He stopped sharing plans with anyone. He’d just show up at random and tell the guards, ‘We’re going now.
In five minutes.’ Those eco-terrorists have tried to hit him so many times, he’s on edge constantly.
And now NotFromHere’s in the mix, they’ve got beef with him too, since the fucking genius found some way to beat them in a clever manner.
The guy’s under attack from all sides. He started keeping Danielson in the dark too. Gave him scraps—"
Another blow. Domenico coughs uncontrollably.
"I swear, boss, Blue’s got full-on security paranoia. And the thing with that purple alpha? It’s like some ace up the owner’s sleeve. Who the fuck could’ve seen that coming?" Blood bubbles out of his nose as he speaks.
"How the hell can one man—"
"It’s possible," I cut in dryly. "I could’ve handled those idiots myself."
I actually feel bad for Domenico. I really do.
Anzo’s taking his rage out on him for nothing.
This isn’t on him. Shit happens. In our line of work, slip-ups are inevitable.
Sooner or later, the knife hits the stone.
However, there's one thing to minimize the risk for every business, and it's not to go for anything political . And Anzo made a colossal mistake here.
I’ve gotta admit, his reasons were beyond me. It was like he wasn’t even himself. And I know Anzo’s ways pretty well. He’s spent years perfecting the art of covering his tracks. Him and Ennio, they’re both good. Meticulous. Paranoid. Always watching their backs.
And if anything ever goes sideways, the Ferros have people everywhere, ready to clean up. If it weren’t for all that caution, the Russians would've eaten us alive by now.
But this feels like a monumental fuck-up.
How the hell did it happen? It’s just… so not Anzo.
On top of that, we lost an entire unit of our soldiers. A great opening for the Russians.
Feeling that it could go on forever, I try to defuse things with a calmer tone.
"After he transformed into his imago form, they would’ve had to unload a lot of bullets into him to bring him down. I doubt there was even time for that," I say, glancing sideways at Anzo.
I hate this bastard more than anyone in the universe, but I can’t stomach the idea of walking away and leaving everything my grandfather and parents built in his hands.
Right now, I own only legal, clean businesses: casinos and restaurants.
I made sure of that. It’s Rocco and our uncle Vincenzo who run the brothels and illegal underground fight clubs.
But the clause says that as long as Anzo is alive, he oversees the entire empire. Only if he dies, or lands in prison, do our shares become legally valid.
But… he added a little twist in his will.
If any of us are even suspected of trying to kill him, involved in his death, or helping build a case against him, our shares get voided. So he’s got us all in check, and as long as he’s breathing, we have to play by his rules or go away with nothing, and a hit put on our heads.
To make things worse, all of us have a metal rod implanted along our spines, connected to a control system Anzo operates through his cybernetic upgrades. It’s not only a taser, it’s also a locator device. And… a bomb. He had it done when we were kids. He’s always kept us on a short leash, muzzled.
Rocco walks into the room.
His face is tense, brows furrowed.
"I talked to Ennio and Alessi. It’s not looking good. This case landed with some new people. There’ve been major personnel shake-ups in both the police and the FBI…"
"Fucking Lowens!" Anzo explodes, pacing to the window and rubbing his mechanical hand across his forehead. He smears a bit of Domenico’s blood there without realizing it.
Now he looks like what he really is. A butcher. And he’ll always be that to me.
"I think it’s true they bought off that prick," I mutter.
"Mayor Ronalds?" Anzo raises his eyebrow.
"Yeah. Heard a rumor they started paying him off, subtle pressure to clean house. Police, courts, other departments."
"Anzo, that’s still unconfirmed gossip," Rocco cuts in, looking skeptical.
"Even so, we’ve started seeing changes. If this lands with new hands, we’re screwed," Anzo mutters.
Silence.
Rocco shoots me a look that says plenty. He thinks Anzo’s overreacting, being dramatic. But truthfully? I think that the landscape’s shifting. And I think the Lowens really are sick of not being able to get at us.
Rocco crosses his arms and lifts his chin slightly before speaking.
"Well, I was always against going after that little shit. Getting involved in politics, and that whole Beta Activation mess, was going to blow up in our faces. We should’ve stuck to business and stayed the hell out of activism."
A split second later, Anzo’s mechanical hand cracks across Rocco’s face. He stumbles, then hits the floor. A rare sight. Usually, Anzo avoids confronting Rocco like the plague. But this time, my brother struck a nerve.
"You’re the last person who gets to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do," Anzo growls. "I know all you care about is hookers, racketeering, and extortion. That’s the life you want till the day you die. But some things are simply bigger than this and worth fighting for."
Rocco wipes a little blood from his lip, then says with biting sarcasm,
"Yeah? But are they worth dying for?"
Anzo shrugs. "Don’t be a child. Worst case, we end up in prison."
"Speak for yourself," Rocco growls. "I wasn’t part of that shitshow, and I never backed it. So whoever shows up, they’re here for you."
I know exactly what’s about to happen, and then it happens. Rocco’s whole body jolts as the electric current hits him.
Anzo’s gone off the rails. When things are calm, sometimes you can actually talk to him, even reason with him. He acts careful then, calculated. But there are moments when something flips inside him, like he’s got multiple gears, and that’s when the sadist comes out.
I’ve always believed that those moments when he loses control are going to be his downfall. He’ll leave the door open for the wrong kind of opportunity, and this time, he did. If he never gave in to that part of himself, he’d be unstoppable.
These thoughts float through my head as I watch the scene unfold, my arms crossed over my chest. That’s how I always am.
People never really know where I stand. Most think I’m the most neutral of the Ferro brothers. Or that I just don’t care. But it’s all an act.
The truth is, I loathe my uncle. Probably more than any of them. But who knows? Each of us has our own reason.
I never forgot what he did. My parents, who I loved more than life itself, were butchered by that fucker.
He thinks Mauro was the only one who witnessed it. He’s dead wrong.
Mauro saw them die.
I heard them die.
With my purple alpha hearing. I was two floors up, I wasn't supposed to be there, but I came back earlier from my friend's house and snuck in to play a computer game.
Then came all those days and nights when Anzo drugged Mauro, trying to wipe his memory clean.
But every single day, I snuck into his room and repeated everything to him.
Detail by detail. Whispering, "Remember.
Remember. Always." I forced him to hold on to it.
Made that memory unshakable, carved in stone.
And yeah.
It was me.
I gave the feds everything they needed and then some to take him down. I made sure to destroy him while keeping myself off their radar.
He thinks it was my brothers. Probably deep down, he suspects all of them. Even Rocco.
Everyone, except me. For all his intelligence, he never saw it coming. Maybe because we, purple alphas, are seen as less clever. Meat not brain. So I became his blind spot.
Me. Too dumb to betray him.
He. Too smart to suspect me.