Chapter 81

Chapter 81
Marcello pov

I just don’t need anyone’s permission to confront Vincenzo. The thought of him with my woman for days gnaws at me like a relentless itch that I can't scratch. What stings even more is that nobody seems to acknowledge this – not even my godfather, who usually has a finger on every pulse in our circle.

I sat in my worn leather chair, the surface cool against my skin, twirling a pen between my fingers as I flipped through a pile of reports and memos. The words blurred together in a haze of frustration; my focus was lost, consumed by the infuriating image of Vincenzo laughing and whispering sweet nothings in the ear of the woman I love. It had been days now, and the silence surrounding this betrayal was deafening, amplifying my anger.

With a sudden burst of irritation, I tossed the papers aside, the scattering sheets creating a chaotic scene that mirrored my tumultuous thoughts. The shuffling echoed in the quiet room, a sound that felt as heavy as the weight on my chest. My guard, stationed stoically by the door, raised an eyebrow, cautiously assessing my mood. He knew better than to interrupt me when I was deep in thought or, more accurately, deep in rage. The unspoken understanding between us kept him at bay, but I could feel his concern lingering in the air. It was time to take action.

"Get me more liquor from the store," I barked, my eyes fixed on the scattered papers strewn across the mahogany table, refusing to look up. The guard, Leo, nodded obediently and swiftly exited the dimly lit room, his boots echoing on the polished wooden floor.

Time dragged on torturously as the clock on the wall ticked away, each second amplifying my impatience. I drummed my fingers on the armrest of the plush leather chair, a restless rhythm that mirrored my thoughts swirling in frustration. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Leo returned, the door creaking open to reveal him holding a bottle of aged scotch, its amber liquid glinting under the flickering overhead light.

I snatched the bottle from his hands, the cool glass smooth against my palms, and poured myself a generous measure into a heavy crystal glass. The rich, smoky aroma filled the air, heightening my anticipation.

"Thanks, Leo," I muttered, raising the glass to my lips and savoring the first sip, allowing the warmth to spread through me. 

As I turned to face Leo, my gaze caught the guarded expression on his face. A mischievous glint sparked in my eye. "Tell me, Leo," I said, leaning forward slightly, "if your mate was taken by another man, what would your reaction be?" The question hung in the air, charged with an unexpected intimacy contrasting sharply with the cold atmosphere of the room.

"Thanks, Leo," I muttered, raising the glass to my lips.

As I took a sip, I turned to Leo, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Tell me, Leo, if your mate was taken by another man, what would your reaction be?"

Leo's expression turned grim, his jaw clenched. "I'd kill them both," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

A wicked grin unfurled across my face, the corners stretching as I leaned in closer to Leo. "Ah, I see. You’d be that brutal, huh?" 

Leo nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing, sharp and calculating. "You don't mess with what's yours, boss." 

I let out a chuckle, a cold, mirthless sound that echoed in the dimly lit room. "You have no idea. You see, my beloved Lyra... she's been taken away from me. Vincenzo's got her, and nobody's lifting a finger to help." 

A flicker of alarm crossed Leo's expression, and he took a cautious step forward, his voice lowering. "Lyra's just a breeder, boss. She's not—" 

My eyes snapped to his with a fierce intensity, a warning glint igniting within them. "Don’t you dare say she’s not worth it. She is everything to me, and I will do whatever it takes to bring her back." 

Realization washed over Leo’s face, and he instinctively stepped back, the weight of his miscalculation sinking in. "I apologize, boss. I didn't mean to—" 

The air between us thickened, heavy with unspoken tension, as I prepared to make a plan that would shake the very foundations of our world to reclaim what was mine.

I cut him off with a raised hand, my anger simmering just below the surface like a pot on the verge of boiling over. "You didn’t mean to? You didn’t mean to imply that Lyra’s nothing more than a tool for your own convenience? That she doesn’t deserve my attention or respect?" 

The heavy silence that fell over the room thickened the air, making it almost suffocating. The tension between us was like a taut wire, ready to snap at any moment. Leo’s eyes darted nervously around the room, scanning for an escape route that wasn’t there. He knew better than to try and flee; the consequences would be dire.

“Listen, you’re the king of the hell pit, boss,” he said slowly, his voice measured and cautious, as if he were walking a tightrope. “You can have anyone, anything you want at your fingertips. Why fixate on someone who’s… who’s not even a mate?” His words hung in the air, carrying an edge of incredulity mixed with a hint of desperation.

"You're the king of the hell pit, boss," Leo said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "You can have anyone, anything you want. Why fixate on someone who's... who's not even a mate?"

My laughter was low and menacing. "You really don't get it, do you, Leo? Lyra's not just anyone. She's the one person who's ever managed to get under my skin. And Vincenzo's going to pay for taking her from me."

The air seemed to vibrate with my anger, and Leo took another step back, his eyes fixed on mine. "Boss, I—"

I raised my glass to my lips, the cool rim pressing against my mouth, my gaze locked onto Leo’s anxious eyes. “Just bring me more liquor, Leo. And don’t you dare mention Lyra again. Not unless you’re looking to face some serious consequences.” 

His face paled slightly at my words, a flicker of fear passing through his expression, but he nodded hastily. The bottle wobbled in his grasp as he poured another measure of dark amber whiskey into my glass, his hands trembling just enough to send a splash over the edge. I accepted the drink from him with a steady hand, the liquid swirling ominously within the glass. The silence hung heavily around us, charged with unspoken threats and lingering tension, as I kept my eyes fixed on him, waiting for any sign of rebellion to pass across his features.

I sipped the whiskey, feeling the fiery burn as it slid down my throat—a welcome distraction from the storm of rage simmering just below the surface. In the dimly lit room, shadows danced along the walls, adding to the suffocating atmosphere. Leo stood frozen in the corner, his posture tense and his eyes cast downward, embodying a gesture of submission that reflected his understanding of the gravity of the moment.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken threats and unanswered questions. My mind wandered back to Lyra, and a fresh wave of fury washed over me. How dare Vincenzo take her from me? The betrayal stung like a physical blow, and I clenched my jaw as I imagined him swaggering in, believing he could simply waltz into my life and steal what was mine. I could almost see her smile lighting up the room, hear her laughter ringing like chimes, and catch the glimmer in her sparkling eyes that always seemed to draw me in. My grip on the crystal glass tightened, the cold surface feeling fragile against my escalating anger. 

Suddenly, the door burst open with a resounding crash, and one of my men, Marco, strode in, his expression urgent and serious. "Boss, we've got a problem," he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension like a knife.

I turned to him, my eyes narrowing as my focus shifted entirely. "What is it?" I demanded, the tempest of my emotions rising to the forefront.

Marco hesitated, his eyes darting nervously towards Leo before settling on me. “It’s about Vincenzo, boss,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... he’s flaunting her, boss. Showing her off in public.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and the room seemed to swirl around me, shadows creeping in at the edges of my vision. My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat echoing the rising anger within me. I could feel the heat pooling in my stomach, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. I slammed my fist down hard on the leather armrest, the sharp crack of the impact reverberating through the quiet room, a stark reminder of my growing fury. “Get me Vincenzo,” I growled, my voice dripping with menace, low and gravelly as it cut through the tension.

Marco nodded and swiftly exited the room. I turned to Leo, my eyes blazing with fury. "You'd better get out of my sight, Leo. Before I decide you're not worth keeping around."

Leo didn't need to be told twice. He swiftly exited the room, leaving me alone with my rage. I paced back and forth, my mind racing with scenarios, each one more brutal than the last. Vincenzo was going to pay, oh yes. He was going to pay dearly.

The minutes ticked by, and I could feel my anger building, simmering just below the surface. Then, the door burst open, and Vincenzo strode in, a smug smile on his face. And by his side, her hand in his, was Lyra.

My world went red.

"You're a dead man," I whispered, my voice trembling with rage.

Vincenzo let out a chuckle, the sound sharp and grating against my already frayed nerves. He leaned back in his chair, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, Marcello," he said, his voice laced with mockery. "You're so predictable, always reacting the same way to the slightest provocation." His arrogant gaze met mine, intensifying the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I took a step forward, my fists clenched. "You'll pay for this, Vincenzo. You'll pay dearly."

Lyra's dark eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I caught a flicker of fear dancing across her features, betraying a vulnerability that shocked me. But in an instant, her expression hardened, transforming her uncertainty into a fierce resolve. She stood tall, her posture defiant, her hand firmly clasped in Vincenzo's, as if drawing strength from his presence. 

"I'm not afraid of you, Marcello," she declared, her voice steady and unyielding, cutting through the tension in the dimly lit room like a knife. 

My eyes narrowed, my frustration morphing into a bubbling rage as I clenched my fists at my sides. This was going to be a very long night, and I could feel the weight of what was about to unfold pressing heavily on my shoulders.