Chapter 64 – I Feel Emptiness (Damian’s POV)
Midnight found me deep in the bowels of New Orleans’ docklands, stalking my prey under the cloak of darkness. My suit was soaked in blood, my heart thundered with a vicious satisfaction that barely dented my pain. This was the best stress relief I could offer myself for the turmoil that was brewing within my walls between those two women – a satisfying hunt. So after my little talk with Ivy and after making my point clear, I headed outside to begin.
The only problem now though, is that something about the Deveraux had interfered.
“Boss, target’s inside that warehouse,” one of my enforcers murmured at my side. Behind him, three more of my men waited in tense silence. They could all sense my mood, and tonight, it was not good.
I nodded once. We’d learned Matteo planned a hit on one of our cash houses by dawn, thinking our pack was weak tonight. The bastard would regret that assumption.
We approached the decrepit seafood warehouse by the river. I tried the side door and found it locked. My wolf surged eagerly under my skin, craving a lash out of destruction. I drew back and kicked the metal door savagely. It exploded inward off its hinges with a screech of torn steel.
We flooded into the warehouse all ready to tear at whatever came at us with our natural weapons, though we still carried guns up and about just in case we needed to make some deaths look more… realistic… in the public eye. A maze unfolded before us. My nose wrinkled.
A warning shout went up and a dude with an assault rifle rose on the catwalk but of course, he was too slow. I fired three shots and dropped him cold, his blood splattering the railing.
Then the chaos I had longed for erupted. Muzzle flashes lit the darkness as more of Matteo’s crew opened fire from behind crates and machinery. Bullets sparked off metal and whizzed past my ears. One grazed my shoulder but of course, I barely felt it. The pain in my chest over Ivy drowned out lesser hurts.
My men fanned out wordlessly, returning fire with deadly precision. I caught the scent of fear rising from our ambushers and I knew I had never felt more impressed. They should be afraid.
Snarling, I barrelled forward toward a cluster of terrified scent trails. A thug popped up from behind a crate. I wrenched the gun from his hands and slammed him face-first into it, rewarded by the crack of his skull.
Another goon lunged with a crowbar. I ducked and drove my claws under his ribcage. Hot blood cascaded over my hand as he collapsed with a wet gurgle.
The reek of blood was fuel on the fire of my rage. These bastards were loyal to Matteo—the man who thought he could take Ivy from me. I would butcher them all.
Above, Marco picked off another with a silver-tipped bolt. The leech screeched as it disintegrated into ash mid-fall. The fight was turning decidedly in our favour.
“Lucenti!” a voice roared from the shadows at the back of the warehouse. “You think you can come here, to my turf? You’ve got a death wish, you sonofabitch!”
A hulking figure stepped into view, illuminated by a flicker of neon. He looked familiar. I was certain I had seen him by Matteo’s side. That huge frame could not be mistaken. He hefted a shotgun and fired both barrels in my direction. Pellets peppered my chest and arm with a burning sensation. Fucking silver, I realized with a grunt. It pissed me off more than it hurt.
Bruno racked another shell, but I was already moving. I vaulted onto a low conveyor belt and sprang at him before he could fire again. We collided and went down in a heap. His shotgun skittered away.
He smashed a meaty fist into my ribs and did a good job because something cracked. Snarling, I drove my forehead into his nose. His cartilage crunched as he howled, stunned.
Seizing the moment, my hands became claws and I raked them across Bruno’s gut. He bellowed in agony. I clamped a clawed hand around his throat. His eyes bulged, gurgling pleas bubbling as I squeezed. “Give Matteo my regards,” I snarled, and crushed his windpipe with a wet crunch. His body went limp in my grip.
Silence fell at last. I tossed Bruno’s corpse aside, chest heaving.
“Boss,” Marco called from above. “All clear.”
I nodded, swiping a sleeve across my splattered face. My breaths came ragged with adrenaline and the intense ache in my chest… my heart. I hadn’t given a damn whether I lived through this night.
But I lived… and now Matteo would wake up to a message written in blood.
“Stack the bodies,” I ordered coldly. My men dragged the corpses into a pile in the warehouse’s center. I found a half-empty bottle of bourbon in a dusty office and returned to the heap.
I doused the bodies in reeking alcohol and struck a match, flicking it onto the corpses without ceremony. The foul scent of burning hair and meat filled the air, but I breathed it in, letting the violence wash through me.
This was who I was—a killer, Demon of New Orleans. Damian Lucenti. I was the fucking Alpha of the Lucenti Empire. The Mafia Lord. I’d worn that title for years, and tonight it fit better than feeling broken.
Sierra approached quietly as we watched the pyre, silent and wide-eyed. I barely recognized myself either. My hands clenched; that strange power hummed low in my bones, as if agreeing with the carnage.
The high of battle hadn’t eased the ache in my chest. Slaughtering Matteo’s lackeys hadn’t brought Ivy back. It hadn’t mended the fracture in my soul where she belonged.
With a disgusted snarl, I turned on my heel. “Let’s go,” I growled to my crew. There was nothing left here but death and ashes.
As we slipped out into the night, I headed off alone into the darkness ahead of my men, needing space to breathe. My wolf prowled under my skin, still unsatisfied, still restless. The Demon inside me had been fed, yet I felt nothing but emptiness…