Chapter 309

Chapter 309
Damian stepped into the abandoned wine cellar first, boots grinding against the dust-coated floor. The only light came from a naked bulb swinging overhead, throwing long shadows across the cracked barrels and rusted metal racks. Lucas and two guards stood behind him, weapons in hand, but Damian lifted a hand—he wanted this moment alone.
De Luca was already there, dragged in by Damian’s men and forced onto a wooden chair at the center of the room. His wrists were tied tightly behind him, his face bruised, grey hair falling over his forehead as he grinned up at Damian with a twisted, smug expression.
“So… the great Damian finally found me,” De Luca croaked, amusement dripping from his voice.
Damian’s jaw tightened, but his face remained unreadable as he circled the man slowly—like a predator toying with prey.
“You’ve been running for years,” Damian said, voice low, steady. “Always one step ahead… always hiding. Even the shadows hid you well.”
De Luca laughed, dry and mocking. “I move better in shadows than you ever will. You were a hot-headed boy back then. Easy to manipulate, easy to deceive.”
Damian stopped walking.
His fists clenched at his sides.
“Is that what you think you did?” Damian murmured. “Deceive me?”
De Luca’s grin widened.
“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t figure it out by now,” he said, leaning forward despite the ropes digging into his arms. “I always knew. From the very beginning… I knew about Sia. I knew about Layla. I knew everything.”
A cold silence slammed into the room.
Lucas stiffened behind Damian.
Damian’s expression… didn’t move. But something deadly flashed in his eyes.
“You knew,” Damian repeated quietly. “And you still hunted her. You hunted a child.”
“A child with value,” De Luca hissed. “A child who could either ruin you or elevate me. I chose elevation.”
Damian inhaled once—slow, sharp—like he was restraining himself.
“You made me leave my own territory,” Damian said. “Made me think I lost control. Made me believe you disappeared because you were better than us.”
De Luca laughed again, raspy and mocking.
“You DID lose control. I made you look like a fool for years. A powerful man—reduced to chasing a ghost. My ghost.”
Damian tilted his head, smiling faintly.
“Good,” he said softly. “I wanted to be sure.”
“Sure of what?” De Luca scoffed. “That you’re predictable? Weak when it comes to your little—”
He didn’t finish.
Damian’s fist crashed into his mouth with a force that sent blood spraying across the floor. The chair nearly toppled backward.
Lucas didn’t move. None of the guards breathed.
This wasn’t rage.
This was Damian executing judgment.
Damian leaned down, gripping the back of the chair and forcing De Luca upright.
“You think you humiliated me?” Damian said, his voice dangerously calm. “I let you run. I let you think you were invisible. Because men who feel safe… make mistakes.”
He cupped De Luca’s jaw with one hand, gripping it painfully tight.
“And you did.”
De Luca spat blood toward Damian’s shoes. “You can’t stop what’s already in motion. There are others—”
“I know,” Damian cut in. “Your men told me everything.”
De Luca’s eyes widened for the first time.
Damian smiled without warmth.
“You were never a ghost,” he said. “Just a coward who hid behind disposable men. And the moment we took one… we had you.”
De Luca’s breathing grew harsh, panicked.
“You can’t kill me. I have information—”
“I don’t need it anymore.”
The words froze the air.
Damian straightened, wiping his knuckles with a cloth Lucas handed him.
“You made me a laughing stock?” Damian said, stepping back. “No, De Luca. You made yourself one. You hid. You crawled. You begged your own men to protect you. You were the king of nothing.”
He nodded once to Lucas.
Lucas pulled out a small recorder—evidence of every confession De Luca had just made.
Damian’s eyes softened—just barely—when he thought of Sia. Of her tears. Her fear. Her trembling voice asking if everything was because of her.
His voice deepened into something lethal.
“You hunted my daughter,” he said quietly. “You hurt her mother. You destroyed innocent lives.”
He stepped closer, face inches from De Luca’s.
“And now… I end your story.”
De Luca shook his head violently. “Damian—wait—”
But Damian had already drawn his weapon.
One clean shot.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
De Luca slumped forward, lifeless, blood staining the old wooden chair.
The bulb above them flickered as if the room itself exhaled.
Damian holstered the gun, exuding calm even though his chest rose and fell with restrained emotion.
“Dispose of the body,” he said to Lucas. “And erase every trace of this place. No loose ends.”
Lucas nodded immediately. “Yes, sir.”
Damian turned, stepping out of the cellar, boots echoing down the hall.
For the first time in years…
The ghost was gone.
And Damian could finally return to his children—with the threat that haunted their lives erased forever.