Ottavio’s P.O.V

I walked into my house a not-so-large mansion, cozy but unsettling. A front, nothing more. A disguise for a man living two lives. Bought under a false name.

Thankful my help was in her quarters by now.

I slammed the door shut behind me, the echo bouncing off the quiet walls. My hands curled into fists. Every muscle in my body burned with restrained rage.

That damn woman.

Those words.

"What makes you any better than Brown?"

I saw red.

Her voice replayed in my head, sharper each time, cutting deeper than any bullet ever could.

I stormed up the stairs, my boots heavy on the hardwood floor. Every step is fueled by that insult. That comparison. She had no idea what the hell she was talking about. None.

Brown.

That filthy bastard who had laughed while my sister bled to death.

My chest tightened. The veins in my neck pulsed. I kicked open the door to the guest room the one I kept locked. My therapy room. My hell and my escape.

The walls were lined with sketches, scattered drawings, and canvases fragments of nightmares I’d put on paper to stay sane.

I grabbed the pencil from the desk, the tip already worn down, and began to draw rough, violent strokes cutting across the page.

Faces.

Screams.

That night.

Her face. My sister’s.

Eyes wide, hands bound.

And Brown his grin still burned into my skull.

I pressed harder until the pencil snapped in half. “Fuck!” I shouted, tossing the broken pieces across the room.

I stumbled toward the bar, snatched the first bottle I saw dry gin and drank straight from it. The burn seared down my throat, but it didn’t calm me. It only reminded me that I was alive when she wasn’t.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, breathing raggedly. My gaze drifted back to the drawing now dark, messy lines that no longer looked like faces but ghosts clawing at me.

My stomach twisted. My head throbbed.

And then I saw Aliyah's face, flickering in my mind like a cruel trick. Her lips formed those same words.

"You’re just another one of them."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I smashed the bottle against the floor. Glass scattered like tiny stars.

“Another one of them?” I muttered. “You have no fucking idea.”

The room spun as I reached for the bat propped beside the cabinet, my weapon of choice when words weren’t enough. I swung it once, twice and then crashed it into the framed sketch on the wall.

The glass shattered with a violent crack.

Shards flew everywhere. My breathing came in harsh bursts. I gripped the bat tighter, my knuckles white, eyes stinging.

“She doesn’t know,” I whispered to no one. “She doesn’t fucking know.”

I dropped the bat and sank to my knees amidst the broken pieces. My vision blurred, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

“How could she liken me to a monster like Brown,” I muttered, voice breaking, “a man who laughed while my sister screamed for help.”

The pain clawed up my throat until a raw, guttural scream tore out of me.

I clutched my head, trembling, the room spinning around me. My chest heaved as I looked at the ruined frame on the floor.

All that was left was her face, my sister's smile from an old photograph beneath the shards.

I reached out with shaking hands, fingers brushing the blood-red smear from my knuckles onto the glass.

“Mi dispiace, sorellina…” I whispered hoarsely. “I promised I’d make him pay. I will.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, I ignored it, still kneeling on the floor, my head was spinning. But the vibration didn't stop and I didn't relent in ignoring it. Well not until the A.i communicator voice rang out. “An intruder,”

I wiped at my face.almost immediately, as I pulled the phone out of my pocket and swiped to the camera footage in the house. True to the A.I someone was outside my door but it was only Romano.

He was pressing aggressively on the button on the door. I signed,as I rose from the floor, one glance at the shattered glass, I knew I looked horrible but I didn't care, I just didn't want Romano noticing anything.

I locked the room and descended the stairs, then I got to the door and threw it open. Romano's face tightened as he looked at me. He was always the casual dresser among us. He looked clean as usual but when I locked eyes with him, he frowned, pushed me to the side and walked in.

“You look like shit man,” he pointed out. Then his tone flattened as he folded his hand on his chest. “Is everything okay?”

“I'm fine,” I snapped. “What do you want?”

“Blood's smeared on your knuckles bro. You can talk to me,”

“Get the fuck out of my house if you want to act like a therapist,I don't need it,”

His hands clamped on my shoulder, his eyes betrayed a flash of hurt. He was the only one who don't get scared when I throw my temper tantrum. He understands.

She was his first love, heck the only one he has ever had. He hadn't gotten fazed by any woman since her. He was as invested in this mission as I am.

A part of me is sure he wants to avenge her before he could move on. “Don't be too hard on yourself. We are one step closer to her justice.”

Of course he reads me like a book and I fucking hate it.

“I ask again, what the hell are you doing in my house by this time,” I shrugged off his hand.

“Well,” he raised his hand in the air,walked up to the couch and dropped on it like a sack of bones. “I got news for you,”

“Get on with it then,”

His jaw clenched, switching to that serious mode as I leaned on the wall. The cut on my knuckle began to sting. “The Russians Bratva are looking to align with a strip club.”

I pushed off the wall and went to sit opposite him. “What does that mean?”

“I'm not sure yet but it's a rumor circulating, they are looking for a strip club to work with.”

I frowned. “Why would they do that?”

He lowered his voice like he's about to whisper a curse. “They want to push in coke,”

“Why would they need a strip club?”

Romano shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. “Because a strip club is the perfect front. No one suspects a damn thing. You’ve got constant traffic, privacy, and the kind of clientele that keeps their mouths shut.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, the anger simmering in my chest again. “That’s not why we run the club, Romano. It’s not for this dirty shit. We keep things clean for a reason.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp. “Clean? You think anyone in our world is clean, Ottavio?”

“I mean it,” I snapped. “We built that place to make money, not to use the girls as pawns. I won’t have them dragged into this crap. I won’t have them treated like…”

“Like your sister?” he cut in softly.

The air froze between us. My jaw locked. Romano didn’t flinch. He never did.

“Don’t go there,” I warned. My tone was low, dangerous, but he kept going.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” he said calmly. “But you need to stop assuming everyone’s a victim waiting to be saved. These girls… some of them would choose to be involved if it meant more cash in their pockets. No one’s forcing anyone.”

I stared at him, my knuckles tightening. “And if someone does?”

“Then we’ll handle it,” he said simply. “You know I’d burn anyone who crosses that line.” he paused, seeing he had gained my attention. “An alliance with the Bratva would be to our benefit in the future. A perfect plan B.”

I leaned on the couch. Weighing the wisdom of his words “If so. Find out if the news is authentic and get us that alliance.”

He nodded.

“Now where the hell is Bruno, he's supposed to be the one delivering this news, that's his job.”

“Maybe.” He said, rising up from the couch. He glanced at his watch. “Buried deep in a warm cunt,” he chuckled and I glared at him.

Typical.

“I leave you to fight your demons.” He announced and my lips curved in amusement. The man was more fucked up in the head than I am.

As he picked up his car key from where he had discarded it earlier, I remembered something important I needed. “Romano.” He hummed in response.

“The redhead from the club,”

“Which?” A frown began to creep into his face. “The one you had your digits in yesterday.”

I huffed angrily. Pissed that he had seen that at all. “Yea the one I helped,” I clarified.

“What about her?”

“She would be resuming two days from now, I want her assigned to the private VIP wing.”

“Why? They hardly ever get busy with clients.”

“Just do what you're told.” I snapped and the distant look in his eyes had returned. “Shove whatever you want to say up your ass and strut out of this place like a sissy that you are.” I insulted my intent to rile him up.

But he remained unfazed. “I will leave but remember, the mission is more important.”