Chapter 31

Chapter 31
The elevator was the last place I wanted to be right now— boxed in with my own thoughts, the walls echoing every voice in my head, each one louder than the last.

I pressed my palms against my temples, forcing the noise down and by the time the doors slid open, I’d managed to silence them.

The concierge was still at his post — same sharp suit, same unsettling smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss Francesca,” he greeted.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My mind was too heavy for manners.

Stepping out, I noticed something odd, Maybe it'd always been this way and I just noticed, but the lobby was empty. No guards, no guests, no movement. Just that man behind the counter, grinning like he knew something I didn’t.

Outside, the air had turned cold. The sky looked bruised, clouds swollen and dark. It wasn’t late, but the world had gone dim — like it knew something terrible was about to happen. Down on the street, the silence stretched. Only a few cars were parked along the curb, engines off, windows tinted. Then, one by one, the doors opened. Men stepped out — slow, faces grim and focused.

My pulse spiked.
They weren’t Giordanos. Too coordinated. Too quiet.
They moved like soldiers.

And then I saw him.
A fat figure stepping out of a red car, cigar burning between his fingers — Big Ross, consigliere of the Gambinos.

Everything clicked at once.
Tyler’s death and his connection to the Gambinos.
If Big Ross was here, it wasn’t for me.
It was for Lucian.

One of the men spotted me and pointed. Ross turned his head, eyes locking on me. I didn’t wait to find out what came next.

I ran.

“They’re coming! They’re coming to attack!” I screamed as I bolted inside.

The concierge was still smiling when I passed him.
“Hi, Miss Francesca,” he said politely, as if I wasn’t seconds away from dying out of breath.

“Don’t just stand there—run!” I yelled as I skid into the elevator.

He didn’t. He just smiled.

The elevator doors were closing when I saw it — Ross raising his gun.
The concierge’s head snapped back, red blooming behind him like a dark rose.

The doors sealed shut, and I was trapped inside — shaking, gasping, my hand clamped over my mouth.

I’d never felt fear like that. Not at the bar with the Giordanos, not even the night I almost died, Maybe Emilio made me feel safe. This was different. This was the kind of fear that made your bones feel hollow.

The elevator dragged upward, slow as hell, or maybe time was just broken. I could barely stay standing, my knees trembling. Then the lights flickered — once, twice — and went out completely.

The elevator stopped.

“Fuck!” I slammed my fists against the door. “Help! Lucian!”

No answer. Just the electric hum of silence. I screamed again, voice cracking. “Lucian!”

Then — a metallic groan.
The door bent inward, split open like paper.
Lucian stood there, both hands gripping the metal, his face half in shadow.

“Lucian!” I gasped, collapsing against him. My legs wouldn’t hold me anymore.

“What happened?” Sebastian’s voice came from behind him. Calm but tight.

“The Gambinos,” I said between breaths. “They’re here, Lucian — they killed the guy downstairs— they shot him, oh my God, they shot him—” My words tangled into sobs.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Sebastian said, his tone sharp for the first time. He moved quickly, pulling bags toward the living room.

“I came to warn you,” I said, trying to steady myself. My knees buckled again, and Lucian caught me before I fell.

“And now you’re trapped,” Sebastian snapped, throwing open drawers, collecting whatever he could. “I think you’ve done enough warning.”

I turned to Lucian, my voice shaking. “Why are they after you, Lucian? What did you do?”

He didn’t answer.
Didn’t even blink.

I searched his face for anything — guilt, anger, something — but there was nothing. No flicker of remorse, no tremor in his eyes. Just stillness.

I’d seen killers before. Greedy, empty, soulless. But Lucian’s stillness wasn’t emptiness — it was containment. Like a man holding something monstrous behind his ribs.

“You killed him.” The words fell out before I could stop them. “You killed Tyler.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t deny it.

That silence told me everything, and it hurt.
God, it hurt more than I thought it would.

“Why?” My voice broke into a whisper. “Why would you do that?”

The tears came this time. I didn’t fight them. My body trembled, part fear, part grief, part something I didn’t want to name.

Why wasn’t I angry at him? Why did I still care? Part of me still searching for reason.

“Let’s go,” Sebastian’s voice cut through, sharp and urgent. He had the bags ready, his face pale under the dim light.

“Drop the curtains,” Lucian said quietly. “take her and hide.”

“No, we have to leave now—”

“You heard me.”

The air shifted.
Sebastian stopped talking. His eyes met Lucian’s for half a second, then he nodded and ran, yanking the curtains shut.

The room dimmed to near-black.
The air turned heavy, dense, charged.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice trembling. Lucian’s face had changed — no longer calm, but void. The air around him seemed to hum, alive with something that wasn’t human.

Sebastian rushed to me, grabbed my arm. “Come on,” he said, pulling me toward the bedroom.

“Wait! I need to call my dad—”

“Don’t make a sound,” he hissed, dragging me into the bathroom as he locked me inside alone.

I managed to grab the phone on the bed on the way, clutching it like a lifeline. But when I tried calling, nothing. No signal, no Internet. Everything was dead.

“Fuck,” I whispered, dropping the phone to the floor. My whole body was shaking again.

Then, silence.
Heavy, raw, endless silence.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse—

Bang!

The gunshot ripped through the air, loud and close.

I froze. Breath caught. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Somewhere beyond the door, a massacre had started.