8. Lucas
8
LUCAS
W hen I arrive back home, Jake is waiting for me in the private room we use for interrogations. It’s a stark, windowless space, devoid of any comfort or warmth, a place where the truth comes to light no matter how much it hurts.
There’s a man tied to a chair in the center of the room, his head covered with a burlap sack.
Jake stands off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression as grim as I’ve ever seen it. “He’s been cooperative so far,” Jake says, his voice low. “But I figured you’d want to handle the rest.”
I nod, my jaw set as I step closer to the man in the chair. Jake pulls off the sack, revealing Evan’s pale, sweat-streaked face. His eyes are wide with fear, darting around the room as if looking for an escape that isn’t there.
“Lucas,” he stammers, his voice trembling.
I slap him across the face. “Mr. Caprione. Show some fucking respect.”
“Mr. Caprione, sure. Sorry. Look, this is all a misunderstanding. Call my boss, please. Let’s sort this out.”
I study him for a moment, my expression unreadable. He’s scared, and he should be. But fear isn’t enough to save him—not after what he’s done. Not after he helped Albrecht in his schemes, knowing full well the kind of man he was working for.
“You’ve been busy, Evan,” I say, my voice calm, almost conversational. “Skimming cards, funneling money to Albrecht, helping him spread his filth through this city. Doing it at my fucking party.”
Evan’s face pales even further, his eyes darting to Jake, then back to me. “I had no choice,” he pleads. “He would have killed me if I didn’t do what he said. You know how he is.”
“Yes,” I reply, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as I think of my parents burning to death in the fiery inferno on the roadside. “I know exactly how he is.”
And that’s why I can’t let him live. Albrecht’s reach is too far, his influence too deep. If I let Evan walk away, he’ll go right back to working for him, and the cycle will continue. I can’t allow that.
“Jake,” I say, without looking away from Evan. “Deal with him.”
Evan’s eyes widen in panic as he realizes what I mean. “No! Please, Lucas, don’t do this. I’ll disappear, I swear. You’ll never see me again.”
I take a step closer, my gaze cold and unfeeling. “Begging never works with me, Evan.”
“I can get you money. You want money, right?”
“I’m worth billions. You’re offering me peanuts. Say goodbye.”
Instead of anger, I feel a strange sense of calm wash over me. I am a monster. I’ve known it for years, ever since the night my parents died, ever since I decided to build my empire on the foundation of control, power, and fear.
I give him a dark, humorless smile. And then, without another word, I reach out and wrap my hands around his throat. There’s no hesitation, no remorse, just the cold, calculated efficiency that has always defined me.
His struggles are weak, his pleas barely audible as I tighten my grip, cutting off his air supply. It’s over quickly—too quickly—but I feel nothing as his body goes limp in the chair.
I step back, wiping my hands on the cloth that Jake silently offers. The room is quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside the penthouse walls.
I should feel something—satisfaction, perhaps, or at least a sense of closure—but there’s nothing. Just the same hollow emptiness that’s been with me for years.
“Make sure there are no loose ends,” I say to Jake, my voice steady. “Put him somewhere he won’t be found.”
He nods, already moving to carry out the order. I watch him for a moment, then turn and walk out of the room, the door closing behind me with a soft click.
As I step back into the opulence of my penthouse, the city lights glittering outside the windows, I can’t help but think of Emily again.
She’s too good for this world, too good for me. But despite everything, despite the darkness that consumes me, I know I’m not ready to let her go.
Not until I get her necklace back to her.