20. Luca
Luca
"Renzo was never our brother."
Matteo exhales a slow stream of smoke, his voice flat. He leans back in the steel chair, the dim overhead light casting sharp shadows across his face. His wrists are still marred from his time in cuffs. But he looks at ease.
Like he’s been expecting this conversation.
"He was a snake waiting for the right moment to strike," he continues, flicking his cigarette toward the dented metal tray on the table. "And we let him in."
I don’t respond.
Because he’s right.
The air in the safehouse is thick—too thick. It carries the scent of old blood, and betrayal. I hear the faint hum of the ventilation system, the occasional pop from the fluorescent light above us. But Matteo and I?
We sit in silence.
He waits for me to speak first. But I don’t.
I just watch him.
Arms crossed. Jaw tight. The weight of everything pressing against my ribs like a steel vice.
I let him play his little game in that courtroom. I let him keep his secrets, let him wear his smirks and act like he wasn’t walking a fine line between loyalty and betrayal.
But that ends now.
"Tell me the truth, Matteo." My voice is calm. Even. Lethal.
"No more games."
Matteo lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"You sound like him, you know."
I don’t flinch.
"Our father," he clarifies, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. "You stand like him. Talk like him. Even your patience—calm, measured—just like his."
My fists tighten at my sides.
I hated my father.
But the worst part? Matteo’s right.
I lean forward, forearms braced on my knees.
"Then you should know I’m done waiting."
The words snap the tension between us tight.
Matteo watches me for a long moment before sighing, his jaw tightening. He knows there’s no way out of this. No more half-truths.
"Renzo was never going to be one of us, Luca. Not really."
"I already know that," I grit out. "What I don’t know is why the fuck he did this. Why he went after Gilly. Why he made her run."
Matteo exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.
"You think Gilly finding that photo was an accident?"
I don’t answer.
Because deep down, I already know the truth.
Matteo leans forward, forearms on the table, cigarette forgotten.
"Renzo was always waiting for his moment. He never forgot what our father did. And he knew there was one way to make you suffer."
My pulse kicks up.
"He wanted me dead."
Matteo shakes his head.
"No, Luca. He wanted to ruin you. And he knew the only way to do that wasn’t with a bullet—it was by making you believe you lost everything."
His words are a slow-burning fuse, sinking into my chest like a knife.
"He planted the evidence," Matteo continues. "He knew Gilly would see it. He made sure she’d never question it."
I exhale sharply through my nose, jaw locking.
"She was always meant to run."
Matteo nods once.
"And you were always meant to suffer."
The safehouse suddenly feels too small. The walls pressing in, the weight of everything stacking against my ribs.
Gilly.
Renzo didn’t just want to break me. He used her to do it.
He’d been playing this game for years. Setting the pieces in place. Waiting for the right moment.
And I let it happen.
I let him get this close.
No more.
I rise from my seat, slow and deliberate.
Matteo doesn’t move.
Doesn’t flinch.
He just watches me—measuring, weighing.
Testing.
But there’s nothing left to test.
"Where is he?" My voice is quiet. Deadly.
Matteo’s lips twitch like he’s suppressing a smirk.
"That’s the thing, brother," he murmurs, voice low. "Renzo’s still five steps ahead of you."
Matteo’s words settle between us.
A slow, poisonous truth.
I was never chasing Renzo.
He was leading me exactly where he wanted me to go.
Matteo holds my gaze, waiting.
The words Renzo’s still five steps ahead of you settle between us like poison.
I roll my neck, forcing the tension out of my muscles. I don’t take the bait. I don’t let the words sink in—because if I do, I’ll start breaking bones, and I need Matteo to talk.
"Explain." My voice is quiet. Controlled.
Matteo exhales, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray.
"You already know Renzo hated our father. Hated us. Hated that he had no power. But he didn’t just want revenge, Luca. He wanted to erase us—from the inside out."
"So he waited."
"He played the long game." Matteo nods. "Acted loyal. Built trust. Gained access."
I already know this part.
What I don’t know is why he targeted Matteo.
"The case against you," I say coldly. "It was Renzo, wasn’t it?"
Matteo lets out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His fingers brush against the faint bruises from his prison cell.
"Yeah," he mutters. "It was him."
A muscle ticks in my jaw.
"Continue talking."
Matteo leans back against the chair, stretching out his legs.
"You remember Diego Rojas?"
I narrow my eyes. "Cartel enforcer. Middle-rank. Did dirty work for the Colombians."
"Right." Matteo nods. "He was working with Renzo. Or at least, he thought he was."
"What do you mean?"
Matteo exhales sharply. "Rojas thought Renzo was brokering a deal between the Colombians and our family. Thought he was setting up a pipeline—guns, drugs, the usual shit."
My fingers tighten into fists. "We don’t deal in that."
"I know that. You know that. But Rojas didn’t." Matteo tilts his head. "Renzo made sure he didn’t."
The realization slams into me like a blade to the ribs.
"He made Rojas think we betrayed him."
Matteo nods once. "Renzo told him you were backing out of the deal. That we were going to wipe out his crew instead of honoring it."
I curse under my breath.
Renzo never just killed his enemies outright—he let them kill each other.
"So Rojas came after us first," I mutter.
"Yeah," Matteo confirms. "Except Renzo made sure I was the only one caught in the crossfire."
"The anonymous tip," I grit out.
Matteo smirks, but there’s no humor in it. "You catch on fast, big brother."
I pace a slow circle around the room, jaw tight.
"He set you up," I say. "Framed you for Rojas’s murder."
"Planted evidence. Paid off the right cops. Made sure I had no way out," Matteo says bitterly. "You want to know the best part? Rojas was already dead before I even stepped into that warehouse."
My chest tightens.
"What?"
Matteo meets my gaze. "Renzo killed him first. He just needed a body and a name to put on the blame."
Fucking bastard.
"He knew I'd come looking for answers," Matteo continues. "Knew I’d track down Rojas when I heard my name was attached to a deal I never made. He made sure the second I stepped into that warehouse, the cops would be tipped off."
I grind my teeth. "He wanted you locked away."
"More than that," Matteo mutters. "He wanted you distracted."
The pieces snap together, sharp and jagged.
I was so fucking busy getting Matteo out that I wasn’t looking at Renzo.
Wasn’t seeing the real game he was playing.
"He knew I wouldn’t let you rot," I murmur.
"And he was right." Matteo gives me a pointed look. "He kept you chained to my trial while he put his next move into play."
My stomach turns to ice.
Rafa.
Matteo sees it the second it hits me.
"Yeah," he mutters. "While you were too busy trying to get me out, Renzo was setting up the real play. He was already coming for your son."
The air thickens.
Renzo was never playing for small wins.
He was building the board.
I wasn’t chasing him.
He was leading me exactly where he wanted me to go.
My fingers curl into fists.
Rage simmers low and steady in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins.
I should’ve seen it.
I should’ve known Matteo’s arrest was never the endgame.
Renzo wanted me distracted.
Wanted me off balance.
And while I was too busy fighting to free Matteo, he made his move.
He took Rafa.
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders back. I won’t break. Not now.
But when I speak, my voice is lethal.
"Where is he?"
Matteo flicks his cigarette into the ashtray, stretching his arms over the back of his chair. "If I knew that, you think I’d be sitting here?"
I clench my jaw.
"You should’ve told me sooner."
"Would it have changed anything?" Matteo raises a brow. "You were already going to kill him. You still are."
I narrow my eyes. "And what about you?"
He smirks. "You already know my answer."
I stare at him for a long second.
Matteo was never one for loyal declarations. He never needed to say the words out loud.
But this isn’t just about family anymore.
This is about settling a war that started long before we even understood what it meant to be soldiers.
And Matteo just made his choice.
"Then let’s make him suffer instead."
Matteo exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. "Yeah, see, I figured you’d say that. That’s why I already started making calls."
I tilt my head slightly. "What kind of calls?"
"The kind that make Renzo’s life a living hell." Matteo smirks, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I might’ve tipped off a few interested parties about his whereabouts. Might’ve leaked some intel to some very pissed-off cartel bosses. You know. Just to keep things interesting."
I huff a quiet laugh, despite myself.
"So you’ve been working behind my back?"
"Nah," Matteo shrugs. "Just getting ahead of the game."
I shake my head, but there’s no real anger behind it.
Matteo plays his own game.
Always has.
But this time?
We’re aiming for the same target.
"You really think he’s still five steps ahead?" I ask.
Matteo exhales sharply. "Not for long."
I inhale deeply, the weight of something darker pressing against my spine.
"He didn’t just take Rafa," I mutter. "He was after them from the start."
Matteo’s smirk fades. "Yeah. And you barely beat him to it."
I exhale sharply. "Tell me."
Matteo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You remember how she got the Manila envelope?"
My jaw tightens. "The one with the photo of Rafa."
"Yeah," Matteo mutters. "That wasn’t a coincidence, Luca. Renzo sent it."
My pulse slows, deadly.
"He wanted to rattle her. Wanted to scare her into running."
Matteo nods. "And the anonymous call she got in her office? That was him too."
I picture it—Gilly sitting at her desk, alone, terrified.
I remember the fear in her eyes when I found her.
She thought I was the danger.
But Renzo had been seconds away from taking her first.
"He was coming for them," I murmur.
"Yeah," Matteo confirms. "He had a team watching her, waiting. Carmen was already working for him. He was seconds away from grabbing her and Rafa. But you stormed in first."
Something black and violent twists inside me.
I think of Gilly fighting me when I took her. Hating me.
She thought I was her worst mistake.
She doesn’t even realize how close she came to never seeing Rafa again.
Matteo exhales. "Renzo’s been playing this game for a long time, Luca. You just disrupted his move."
My hands flex at my sides, aching to end this.
"No more running," I murmur.
Matteo tilts his head. "What’s that mean?"
I glance at him, my voice dead calm.
"It means we’re not playing his game anymore."
Matteo studies me for a long second, then grins.
"Well, shit." He leans back in his chair. "He’s really fucked now, huh?"
I exhale slowly, my mind already calculating.
The war isn’t coming.
It’s here.
And Renzo won’t see me coming until it’s too late.