Chapter 75

Chapter 74
The moment the steel door slammed behind Adrian, a thick silence flooded the space. The only thing breaking it was the ragged breathing of the masked man tied to the chair in the center of the room. His hands were bound behind him, the rope digging into his wrists. His chin was swollen from the earlier blow, a bruise spreading across one cheekbone. His eyes were red—not from tears, but from fear so intense it pushed everything else out of him.

Adrian’s footsteps were slow as he approached.

The man shuddered with each step he heard.

“Look at me,” Adrian said quietly.

The man lifted his head. His breath hitched.

Adrian crouched slightly, bringing his face close enough that the man could see the fury buried beneath the calm. Then Adrian lifted his gun—not aiming at him, but just holding it in one hand, letting the metal catch the dim light of the room.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

The words were soft. They rolled off his tongue like a warning disguised as a question.

The man’s lips shook. “P-please… I—I—”

He couldn’t get the words out.

He tried.

He failed.

Adrian straightened and without a blink, he swung his fist once. It was clean and controlled.

The man’s head snapped sideways. He choked, coughing, a thin line of spit falling from his lip as he struggled to breathe through the shock. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably, the ropes cutting into his skin as he jerked against them.

“I didn’t ask you to beg,” Adrian said calmly. “I asked who sent you.”

The man swallowed—hard—and forced himself to focus, though the room around him swayed and blurred.

“I c-can’t,” he whispered. “They—they’ll kill me.”

Adrian’s eyes flashed—not in sympathy, but in amusement at the futility of the excuse.

“You’re worried about someone killing you out there?” he asked slowly. “You think you’re leaving this room alive?”

The man’s breath stopped.

Adrian dragged a chair across the floor, the scrape echoing like a slow, cruel promise. He set it down in front of the trembling man and sat, crossing one leg over the other with the elegance of someone attending a business meeting—not an interrogation.

His posture was relaxed. His voice was not.

“Start talking.”

The man’s chest heaved.

He shook and stammered.

And then—

“It—It was… Ri—Rico.”

Adrian didn’t move.

But something inside him did.

His jaw clenched, the muscle along it ticking once. His eyes darkened, turning cold in a way that would have terrified anyone who knew him.

“Rico?” he repeated, leaning forward just slightly. “Say it again.”

He needed to hear it twice—because sometimes desperation made men lie. And a lie about Rico could start a war Adrian wasn’t willing to ignite without proof.

The man nodded frantically, his breath sharp and uneven.

“Rico sent me!” he blurted. “He told me to take the valuables, burn the rest—he said he’d clean up after. I swear— I swear!”

Adrian inhaled slowly through his nose.

Rico.

A man he’d once trusted more than most.

A man who had disappeared, resurfaced, disappeared again—always just out of reach.

Adrian opened his mouth to ask something else when the masked man’s pocket vibrated.

A phone.

The man froze.

Adrian held out his hand.

“Give it to me.”

The man didn’t argue. He couldn’t. He tilted to one side as Adrian reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, cheap phone—burner model, untraceable, the kind used by people who needed to disappear quickly.

The screen glowed.

It was rico calling.

Adrian’s brow lifted.

Of all the possible signs, this one was too perfect, too direct to be coincidence.

Adrian gestured with the gun. “Answer it. No hints. No pauses. No tremors.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to an icy whisper.

“If he suspects anything, I put a hole in your skull before he finishes his sentence.”

The man nodded violently.

Adrian pressed accept on the call and switched to speaker.

Rico’s voice burst through the speaker—sharp, impatient, and irritated.

“Where the hell are you?” he snapped. “You were supposed to report back twenty minutes ago.”

The man swallowed. “I—I’m hiding. I almost got caught.”

“Of course you almost got caught.” Rico scoffed. “You’re a fool, I told you the timing had to be exact! The other guy already called me—says you nearly ruined everything!”

Adrian’s face didn’t move.

But his attention sharpened into something razor-thin.

Rico kept talking. “Listen carefully. You’re coming to meet me. Now. We’re not done with this.”

“B-boss, I—”

Adrian ended the call with a single tap.

The room fell silent again.

The masked man immediately began shaking, babbling, “Please—please—please don’t kill me, I swear I told you everything, I swear, I swear—”

Adrian stood slowly.

He didn’t speak. Not a word. He raised the gun and fired once.

The man slumped, the chair rattling beneath him.

Adrian exhaled, slow and quiet, lowering the gun.

He didn’t look at the body again.

Didn’t even flinch and didn’t hesitate to call matteo to dispose of the body.

He walked out of the room as easily as if leaving a board meeting, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall.

The steel door shut behind him.

\---

Lucia had been pacing the corridor upstairs.

Every sound made her jump. Every minute felt like an hour. The mansion was too big, too quiet, too heavy with unspoken worries.

She had tried sitting.

She had tried distracting herself.

But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian walking into that underground room with the gun in his hand and a storm in his eyes.

The moment she couldn’t take it anymore, she walked toward the staircase—only to collide directly with Adrian.

She gasped softly, startled. Her hand hit his chest. His hand automatically steadied her waist.

He looked… different.

His expression was calm.

“Lucia,” he said softly.

Her eyes immediately searched his face. “What happened? Did you—did you…?”

His jaw tightened.

He swallowed.

And then—quietly, truthfully—he said, “Yes.”

The answer should have made her pull away.

Should have frightened her.

Should have built a wall between them.

Instead, Lucia’s lips parted in a small, almost disbelieving chuckle.

“Good,” she whispered.

Adrian froze.

He blinked once, confused.

She crossed her arms lightly, leaning back just a fraction. “He set your warehouse on fire. He stole from you. He tried to run. What did he think would happen?” She shrugged. “People like him get what they deserve.”

Adrian stared at her.

Not because of what she said—violence was not new to him—but because of how effortlessly she said it. No fear. No judgment. No disgust.

Just… certainty.

Lucia caught him staring.

“What?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer. He was still watching her, trying to understand how this gentle woman could look at him—not the businessman, not the public figure, but the man who had just executed someone—and not flinch like she used to.

Lucia reached over to the fruit bowl nearby, picked up an apple, and bit into it with calm confidence. The sound was crisp, breaking the heavy silence.

She sat down on the edge of the small lounge chair opposite him, crossing one leg over the other.

“You protect what’s yours,” she said simply. “And the people who threaten it… well…” She took another bite. “They should worry.”

A slow, surprised breath escaped Adrian's lips..

Something warm fluttered behind his ribs.

Lucia lifted her gaze to him again, her eyes glinting with something he hadn’t expected—understanding.

Real, unnervingly deep understanding.

She held out her hand casually.

“Give me the gun.”

Adrian blinked. “…what?”

“The gun,” she repeated, chewing. “Let me see it.”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t trust her, but because no woman he’d ever been with had asked him that. Not without trembling. Not without pretending she didn’t really want to know what he did behind closed doors.

Lucia wasn’t pretending.

He slowly handed her the gun, watching her every movement.

She took it without fear, turning it in her hand, studying the weight, the shape, the cool metal.

Her voice was steady when she spoke. “One day, I want you to teach me how to use one.”

Adrian felt something inside him shift.
Soft, in a way that scared him more than violence ever could.

A small smile touched the corner of his lips—rare, and genuine.

“Is that so?” he murmured.

Lucia nodded once, meeting his gaze boldly. “If I’m going to stay around you… I should learn how to protect myself.”

Adrian took a step closer.

His voice was quiet, a whisper that sank into her skin.

“Lucia… I’d teach you anything.”

Her eyes softened. “Then start with this.”

She lifted the gun slightly.

Adrian’s smile deepened just enough for her to notice.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured. “First lesson. I promise.”

Lucia set the gun on her knee, still looking at him.

The tension between them tightened—warm, electric, dangerous in all the wrong and right ways.

Adrian finally exhaled.

For the first time since the warehouse, some of the storm inside him loosened.

Because Lucia wasn’t afraid of him anymore 
She wasn’t running away like she used to.
She wasn’t judging like before.

She was sitting in front of him, calm, eating an apple, holding a gun, and telling him she wanted to learn how to be dangerous too.

And somehow…
That terrified him more than anything.
And he liked it