Chapter 89
NARRATOR
The afternoon fell over the vineyards of Sicily with a heavy air, thick with dust and palpable tension. On the horizon, the sun died behind the ancient hills, staining the sky and the stone winery where the De Luca brothers had gathered a blood-red color. This was no ordinary meeting; the hard looks of the lesser capos made that brutally clear. Something had gone very wrong.
Sebastián stood beside the central table, his black jacket open, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing veins marked by tension. His expression was one of barely contained fury, dark eyes glowing like embers under the dim light of the lamp. Across from him, Santiago, always quieter and more calculating, reviewed documents and a satellite phone with a surgeon’s precision. The tension between them was tangible, as if the air itself refused to move.
“Tell me you’ve already located him,” Sebastián said without looking at his brother.
Santiago lifted his gaze, his gray eyes cold as tempered steel.
“I have him,” he replied with lethal calm. “He was selling our weapons to the Palermo competition. One of our men saw him and followed him. He’s downstairs, in warehouse three.”
Sebastián clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening beneath his tanned skin.
“Did you verify it? Are you completely sure?”
“He confessed everything before I even bothered to raise my voice,” Santiago answered curtly. “He’s been doing it for months. He stole almost half a million from us.”
A murmur ran through the room. The men present—loyal soldiers, old members of the clan—exchanged uneasy looks. Betrayal was something Sebastián never forgave.
“Bring him,” he ordered.
Two men left and, minutes later, returned dragging a bloodied man. His hands were tied with wire, his face swollen from blows, animal fear in his eyes like a trapped rat. They threw him brutally at Sebastián’s feet. The silence in the winery was absolute, broken only by the crunch of boots on the stone floor.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Sebastián asked, his voice low but loaded with a violence that froze the blood.
“I… I didn’t want to… it was a mistake… I’m sorry…” the man babbled, his voice trembling.
Sebastián crouched, grabbed him by the chin with brutal force, and made him look directly at him.
“Mistakes can be forgiven. But betrayal, boy… betrayal is paid for with your life.”
He released his face in disgust and straightened. He asked one of the guards for his gun. Santiago watched without intervening; he knew his brother needed to do it himself. It was the way to maintain absolute respect.
Sebastián did not hesitate for a second. He shot him in the forehead without another word. The echo of the gunshot bounced off the ancient stone walls, and for an instant, no one breathed. The body collapsed like an empty sack, blood spreading into a dark pool that reflected the yellowish light of the lamp.
Sebastián wiped the barrel of the gun with a white handkerchief and placed it on the table.
“Clean this up,” he ordered firmly. “I want no one to remember what happened here tonight by tomorrow.”
The men moved silently, obedient.
Among them, a female figure stepped forward.
Sofía Russo.
She wore a black cashmere coat that barely concealed the curves of her body, her hair gathered in a perfect bun that revealed the elegant line of her neck. No one dared speak to her, but everyone knew who she was: Valentina’s mother, the boss’s wife… and the lover no one was allowed to name.
Her blue eyes, cold and burning at the same time, locked onto Sebastián with a mixture of admiration and desire. That shot, executed with brutal precision, had ignited something primitive in her. Sebastián’s violence, his absolute control, his unquestionable power drew her like a moth to a flame.
Santiago stepped closer to his brother.
“You needed that,” he said simply.
“Yes.” Sebastián sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Sometimes you have to remind them who’s really in charge.”
Santiago nodded, glanced at the traitor’s body, and snapped his fingers.
“Come on, boys. Finish this quickly.”
He was the first to leave, dragging the others with him.
Sebastián waited until the warehouse doors slammed shut. Silence filled the place again, broken only by the distant crackling of the fireplace.
Only he, Sofía, the smell of gunpowder, and fresh blood in the air remained.
Sofía took a calculated step toward him, her heels echoing against the stone floor.
“You’re still just like your father when you get angry,” she said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, charged with dangerous intimacy. “But more… controlled.”
Sebastián turned toward her, frowning, his eyes darkened by exhaustion and lingering fury.
“Never compare me to him.”
“I’m not,” she replied with a barely visible smile that promised trouble. “You’re better. Stronger. More of a man.”
He looked at her, his breathing still agitated by the adrenaline of the moment. When Sofía stepped closer, her perfume enveloped him: a sweet, dangerous scent with notes of jasmine and something darker. Her fingers, delicate yet resolute, brushed Sebastián’s cheek, lightly staining themselves with the blood still on his skin. The contact was electric.
“You should leave, Sofía,” he said hoarsely, though he didn’t step back. “I don’t want you to see this.”
“I already saw it,” she murmured, her voice a breath of air filled with defiance. “And it excites me to see you like this.”
Sebastián grabbed her wrist firmly, trying to push her away, but his fingers stopped, caught in the warmth of her skin. Sofía moved even closer, her breath brushing his neck.
“Every time you deliver justice with your own hands… I see you more as mine.”
He looked into her eyes, those blue wells that challenged him, consumed him. He knew it was wrong, that their relationship would be a death sentence if anyone discovered it. But in that instant, with the smell of gunpowder still in the air and Sofía’s heat so close, guilt, rage, and desire blended into a blinding whirlwind.
Sofía kissed him, and the kiss was pure fire. Sebastián responded with the same intensity with which he had pulled the trigger minutes earlier. He lifted her easily and pressed her against the wooden table where the shipment documents were still spread out.
They gave themselves to each other with desperate urgency, knowing each encounter could be the last. The fireplace flickered in the distance while the world outside kept turning, unaware of the impossible, brutal love that bound them.
When they finished, they were left panting, their broken breaths slowly synchronizing in the aftermath’s silence.
“If this ever comes to light… it will destroy us both,” she whispered.
Sebastián kissed her once more, with a calm that was almost tender.
“Then let it destroy us together.”
Hours later, when everything was silent, Sebastián sat in the same chair where he had sentenced a traitor to death. The body was gone. Only the stains on the floor and the metallic smell of blood remained.
Sofía, once again wrapped in her coat, approached him, adjusting her bun with an elegance that contrasted with the chaos of moments before.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly.
He nodded without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the darkness.
When she left, he lit a cigarette and watched the smoke rise until it vanished into the winery’s ceiling. He knew he was playing with fire. But worst of all was that he no longer wanted to stop.