Chapter 77. No Mercy for My Son’s Killers

Luciano commands his men to come inside the room. They come in and he sees how the other men tremble in fear.

Good!!

Today is the day those bastards that let his son die will wish that they’re newer born.

Luciano straightens, but his hands tremble for a beat…. not from anger, he reassures himself, but from a hurt that has nothing to do with rage.

He closes his eyes for the briefest moment and sees Alessandro at five, pencil smudges on his small fingers, the crooked toothy grin when he showed his father a drawing of the villa with a stick-figure family. The memory hits like a stone.

Luciano breathes out slowly, forcing himself into command.

“Take them downstairs. To the torture room” he tells his men.

The men are dragged from the office, their pleas echoing through the hallways of the Bianchi villa.

Luciano follows slowly, each step deliberate, the weight of vengeance steady in his chest. He thinks of a small pair of shoes by Alessandro