Chapter 38 Haunt
After breakfast, Lucas carried Elena to the car himself blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting against his chest the entire drive.
He didn’t speak much, just kept one hand on her thigh, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of her jeans, grounding himself in the warmth of her.
At the college gates, he parked in the no-parking zone no one dared tell him otherwise , walked her to the entrance, kissed her slow and deep in front of half the campus, then watched until she disappeared inside with Sriya.
Only when the doors closed did he turn, face hardening back into the mask of the man who ruled shadows.
Today he hunted.
He drove alone no entourage, no backup.
Just him, the black Maybach, and a cold, burning certainty in his chest.
The first name on his list had always been there, buried under years of silence and blood.
His father.
The man who’d beaten him bloody as a child, who’d laughed while his wife screamed, who’d sold pieces of Luca’s soul to keep his empire intact.
The same man who’d once worn the serpent-and-broken-crown ring on his right hand.
Lucas had the location within the hour Viktor’s team had never stopped watching.
A private club on the outskirts of Naples, the kind of place where money bought silence and power bought everything else.
He parked in the alley behind, killed the engine, and stepped out into the humid afternoon air.
The bouncers at the back door recognized him instantly.
They didn’t even try to stop him.
Inside, the club was dim red velvet booths, low jazz humming from hidden speakers, the scent of cigar smoke and expensive whiskey hanging thick.
He sat in the center of it all, sprawled in a leather armchair like a king on a throne.
A young woman perched on his lap barely twenty, laughing too loudly at something he’d said, her hand resting possessively on his chest.
His ’s eyesncold, calculating, the same gray as Luca’s lifted when the door slammed open.
A slow, ugly smile spread across his face.
“Ohhh, welcome, welcome,” he drawled, not bothering to move the girl.
“How are you, son?
Lucas didn’t answer.
He walked straight to the table, boots heavy on the polished floor.
The room went quiet conversations dying, glasses pausing halfway to lips.
“Everything will be good,” Lucas said, voice flat, deadly calm, “when you reach hell.”
Russo laughed loud, mocking, the same laugh that had haunted Luca’s nightmares for decades.
“It’s not easy to kill me,” he sneered, finally pushing the girl off his lap.
“As you killed your mother.
The words landed like a slap, but Lucas didn’t flinch.
He didn’t look sad.
He didn’t look angry.
He looked empty the kind of empty that comes right before something explodes.
The girl scrambled away, eyes wide.
The other patrons began backing toward the exits.
“Where is Satan?” Lucas asked, voice low, almost bored.
“How is he related to Elena’s mother?
Russo leaned back, swirling his whiskey, smile widening.
“Ohhh, so eager to know abbout your slut life,” he taunted.
“She was always a whore, you know. Isabella. Begging for it. You think Elena’s any different? She’ll spread her legs for ”
Lucas didn’t wait for the rest.
He drew his gun in one smooth motion and shot Russo straight through the forehead.
BANG.
The sound cracked through the room like thunder
Russo’s head snapped back, whiskey glass tumbling from his hand, body slumping in the chair like a discarded puppet.
Blood sprayed across the velvet, dark and final.
The girl screamed.
People scattered chairs overturning, glasses shattering, footsteps pounding toward the exits.
Lucas stood over the body, gun still raised, face completely blank.
“Rest in hell, dear Dad,” he said quietly.
He turned and walked out past the screaming, past the chaos, past the blood pooling on Italian marble.
The sun was still shining outside.
The sea still sang.
But something inside Lucas had finally gone quiet.
He got into the Maybach, started the engine, and drove back to the office.
It was almost afternoon when the call came sharp and urgent, slicing through the quiet office like a knife.
He answered
“Boss… we got Satan.”
The name alone made his grip tighten on table for one instinctive second.
“Where?”
“Old warehouse, Naples docks. Secured. And boss he’s the same man from the photo. Black diamond ring. Serpent crest. He’s ready to talk.”
Lucas exhaled once slow, controlled.
“I’m coming.”
He ended the call, kissed Elena’s photo on his table with aching gentleness, then carefully extricated himself from her warmth.
The drive to the dungeon was silent except for the low growl of the Maybach’s engine.
His security followed like shadows three black SUVs trailing at precise distance, men inside armed and expressionless.
They knew better than to speak when their boss looked like this.
The dungeon door opened before he even reached it.
Viktor stood waiting, face grim.
Inside, the same swinging bulb, the same cold stone.
But this time only one man waited in chains.
Satan real name buried so deep even the underworld had forgotten it hung by his wrists, shirt torn open, already bruised and bleeding from the “welcoming committee.”
He was older than Lucas expected late fifties, silver threaded through dark hair, eyes sharp despite the swelling.
The black diamond ring still gleamed on his right hand, serpent-and-broken-crown crest catching the light like a taunt.
Lucas stopped three feet away.
“Welcome to hell, Satan,” he said, voice flat, deadly calm.
Satan lifted his head slowly, cracked lips pulling into a bloody smile.
“Ohhh… not again.”
“You escaped me once,” Lucas continued, stepping closer.
“But not now.”
Satan laughed wet, broken.
“Remember how I killed your brother?”
The words landed like a blade between ribs.
Lucas’s entire body locked.
Memories crashed through him like a tidal wave.
Flashback – 15 years earlier
Lucas was nineteen.
Born into a world of dark secrets and darker money.
The Romeo name opened doors and buried bodies.
His mother Valentina was obsessed with power, her beauty a weapon she wielded like a blade.
His father was a man-whore who brought different women home every week, parading them like trophies while Valentina drank and smiled like it didn’t matter.
But there was one light in that house of horrors: Reuben.
His big brother seven years older, tall, gentle, the only person who ever shielded Luca from the worst of it.
Reuben taught him how to fight, how to read people, how to survive.
He took beatings meant for Lucas.
He whispered stories at night when the house echoed with screams.
He promised: “One day we’ll leave. Together.”
That day came too late.
Lucas tried to escape late one night, bag packed, Reuben waiting at the gate.
Russo found them.
The gunshot was deafening.
Reuben stepped in front of Lucas without hesitation.
The bullet meant for the youner brother tore through the older one’s chest.
Reuben fell, blood blooming across his shirt like a rose, eyes wide with shock and something softer love.
“Brother…” Luca screamed, dropping to his knees, hands pressing the wound, blood slick and hot between his fingers.
He laughed cold, triumphant.
Luca looked up at his father, eyes burning.
Something inside him snapped.
Present
Lucas blinked, back in the dungeon, the memory receding like a tide.
His hands were shaking not with fear, with rage.
Satan watched him, smiling through bloodied teeth.
“You still dream about him, don’t you? Your brother. The one who died for you.”
What do you want from my wife and how do you know her mother Lucas asked his voice is leathal
What did I will get in return Satan asked ..
Freedom..Lucas ..spoek.
Elna is my daughter...Satan spoek making Lucas shocked.
To be continued