Chapter 10 Could She Be Alive
Lucas POV
I slapped the reporter a couple of times to wake him up because I thought he was pretending but after a few slaps, he still didn't open his eyes and I started feeling frustrated.
“Wake him up,” I ordered angrily, my voice was a low, dangerous snarl that echoed off the walls. “I didn't come all the way here to talk to a corpse. I want answers, and I want them now.”
Brian signaled to a guard, who stepped forward with a bucket of ice cold water. He threw it with a sharp splash, drenching the man from head to toe.
The reporter gasped, his body jerking violently against the ropes. He shook his head, water spraying everywhere, and slowly lifted his gaze.
I stepped into the circle of light, my shadow looming over him like a death sentence. I expected him to turn pale like how he was when I came in.
I expected him to shake, weep and beg for mercy the way every other man did when they saw the dark look in my eyes.
But the expected fear didn't come.
Instead, the man’s eyes locked onto mine, wide and bloodshot. A slow, twisted grin spread across his face, revealing teeth stained with blood.
“Hahahaha!!!!” Then, he started to laugh. It wasn't a normal laugh, but was a high-pitched, hysterical cackle that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
He tilted his head to the side at a weird, unnatural angle, his laughter bouncing off the walls until the whole warehouse was filled with the sound of his laughter.
I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated fury as my blood boiled. Who did this nobody think he was?
“What’s so funny?” I barked, stepping closer until I was inches from his face. “You think this is a game? You think I won’t pull your life apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left?”
“Hahahaha!!”
The man didn't stop, he just kept laughing, his eyes bulging and his chest heaving like he had gone crazy. It was the laugh of a man who had already lost everything and had nothing left to fear. But I was determined to make him experience fear and tremble before me.
“Brian!” I yelled, as my patience finally snapped. “Shut him up!”
Brian moved forward, his fist clenched, ready to break the man’s jaw. But just as he reached the chair, he froze. His eyes widened as they landed on the man’s neck.
“Boss, move!” Brian screamed.
Before I could even blink, Brian lunged at me. He tackled me forcefully, shoving me backward with such violence that my head nearly hit the concrete. I was stunned, my mind reeling as we tumbled to the ground several feet away. I opened my mouth to roar at him, and to demand why the hell he had just acted so….
BOOM!
A deafening explosion ripped through the warehouse. The sound was so loud it felt like my eardrums had been pierced by needles. A wave of intense heat rolled over us, followed by a sickening, wet spray that rained down like a heavy storm.
The lights flickered and died, plunging us into a suffocating darkness.
I lay there for a second, my ears ringing with a high-pitched whine. When Brian finally shifted off me, I sat up, gasping for air. I wiped my face, expecting water, but my hand was covered in thick and sticky liquid. Even in the dark, I knew the smell.
Blood.
Brian clicked on a flashlight, the beam cutting through the settling dust and debris. I followed the light to the center of the room. The chair was gone and so was the reporter. There was nothing left but a blackened crater in the floor and a gruesome spray of crimson that coated every inch of the surrounding area.
“A red light,” Brian whispered, his voice shaking. “I saw a red light flashing under the skin of his neck. It was a triggered explosive, Boss. He was a human bomb.”
I stared at the crater, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it was painful. Panic began to claw at my throat. This wasn't just a reporter, it was a suicide mission. Someone had sent a man to die just to get a chance to take me out. I had been inches away from that man. If Brian hadn't moved…
“Clean this up,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and rage. I stood up, my legs feeling extremely heavy. I looked down at my expensive, custom-tailored suit which was drenched and my white shirt was stained a deep, horrific red. “Clean it up now! I want to know who he was! I want to know everything!”
I turned and stumbled out of the warehouse, the smell of burnt flesh clinging to my clothes.
The drive back to the Moretti mansion was a blur. I sat in the back of the car, staring at my blood-stained hands in the dim light. I felt a frustration so intense it felt like I was choking. This was the first time in my life that things were spinning out of my control. I was the one who made people disappear and the one who always set the traps.
How did this happen?
When I walked through the front doors of the mansion, the servants gasped and backed away. Sasha was standing in the foyer, her eyes wide with horror.
“Lucas!” she shrieked, her voice reaching a frantic pitch. “Oh my God, Lucas! You’re covered in… you’re bleeding! Who did this? Are you hurt?”
She rushed toward me, her hands shaking. I stepped back, the metallic scent of the blood making my head dizzy.
“It’s not my blood, Sasha,” I snapped, my voice cold and harsh. I didn't want her near me and I didn't want to see her fear. It reminded me too much of my own. “It’s not mine… Stay back.”
“But Lucas…”
“Go to your room!” I roared.
I didn't wait for her to respond as I marched up the stairs. I reached my room and slammed the door, leaning my back against the wood. I stripped off the ruined clothes, the fabric peeling away from my skin with a sickening sound. I threw them into a heap on the floor and stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as I could stand it.
I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, watching the water turn a muddy pink before swirling down the drain. I stayed under the spray until the steam filled the room, trying to wash away the memory of that hysterical laughter.
After I dressed in clean clothes, I sat in my study, a glass of bourbon in my hand. My hand was shaking and I hated it. I hated the fact that someone had managed to rattle me this deeply.
knock knock!
“Come in,” I said.
Brian entered; and he looked pale, but his eyes were sharp. He walked over to my desk and set a tablet down.
“I have the preliminary report, Boss,” he said.
“Tell me,” I muttered, taking a long sip of the bourbon.
“The reporter’s name was Jonathan Simons,” Brian began. “He was a nobody, just a freelancer who worked for peanuts. But we checked his medical records and saw that he was diagnosed with stage four brain cancer last month. He had weeks to live, at most.”
I looked up, my eyes narrowing. “A dying man?….They used a dying man.”
“It gets deeper,” Brian continued. “Jonathan’s bank account received a massive offshore transfer yesterday. Five million dollars and this morning, at 6AM, he sent his wife and daughter on a flight to Switzerland and he went straight from the airport to the press conference. He knew he wasn't coming back, so he sold his last few days to make sure his family was set for life.”
I leaned back in my chair, the anger simmering into a cold, hard knot. This was professional and clearly calculated. This wasn't a business rival trying to make a quick buck. This was someone who knew how to play the long game.
“He was a pawn,” I said, my voice hollow. “Just a piece on a board. Who has that kind of reach? Who can convince a man to turn himself into a bomb?”
I thought of the Riccis, but they were too cowardly for this. I thought of my competitors, but they were too focused on the bottom line. No one I knew had this kind of ruthlessness. It was like I was fighting a ghost.
I looked at Brian, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes that looked like genuine hesitation. He looked at the tablet, then at me, his jaw tight.
“What is it, Brian?” I asked, my voice dropping. “Say what’s on your mind.”
Brian took a deep breath. The silence in the room felt heavy as he looked me straight in the eye.
“Boss… the timing of all this. The contract, the video of Sasha, the suicide mission… It's all too personal. It’s all hitting exactly where it hurts.”
“Is it possible…” Brian asked, his voice trembling slightly. “Is it possible that Bella might still be alive?”
The glass of bourbon slipped from my hand, shattering against the floor. I didn't even notice it as the name echoed in my head.
Bella.
I saw her face in my mind, the quiet, submissive girl I had manipulated for three years. The girl I had sent to her death without a second thought. My heart started to race with a frantic, terrifying speed.
“Could she really be …..”