By the time Mateo and Lorenzo stumbled into the crumbling safehouse by the docks, dawn was already creeping over the city. The room smelled of rust and sea salt, broken windows letting in cold air.

Lorenzo dropped into a chair, rubbing his wrists where the rope had cut deep. “So this is your grand escape plan?” he muttered, his voice rough. “Run, hide, wait for Ricardo’s men to blow our brains out?”

Mateo ignored him. He stood by the window, scanning the streets, his gun in hand even though the clip was empty. His shoulders were tight, his face hard.

“We don’t stay long,” Mateo said flatly.

Lorenzo scoffed. “We don’t stay long,” he repeated mockingly. “That’s your master plan? Cruz, you just turned an entire firing squad against us. Ricardo’s going to hunt us like animals, and you’re standing there acting like you can outsmart him.”

Mateo’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer.

Lorenzo leaned forward, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “You know what the funniest part is? He’ll forgive you before he forgives me.”

Mateo finally turned, gaze sharp. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re his golden boy,” Lorenzo said, voice rising. “You’ve killed for him, bled for him, built his empire brick by bloody brick. He’ll look at you and still see something worth saving. Me?” He jabbed his thumb toward his chest. “I’m just leverage. A De Luca pawn to be dangled until I’m no longer useful.”

Mateo’s grip on the gun tightened. “You don’t understand what Ricardo is.”

“No,” Lorenzo shot back, his smirk twisting. “You don’t understand what he made you. A weapon. A dog that obeys until the chain chokes him and now you’re choking, Cruz. You just can’t admit it.”

The words struck harder than a fist. Mateo’s shoulders stiffened, and his silence spoke louder than denial.

Before he could answer, headlights cut across the cracked walls. A black car rolled to a stop outside. 

Lorenzo shot to his feet, knife flashing in his hand. “We fight,” he whispered, his jaw clenched.

But Mateo shook his head slowly, his eyes locked on the door. “No. We surrender.”

“What?” Lorenzo’s voice rose with incredulity. “Are you insane?”

Mateo didn’t look at him. “If we fight now, we die here. Ricardo doesn’t forgive, but… he doesn’t waste, either.”

Lorenzo grabbed his arm, yanking him around. “And you’re willing to gamble our lives on that?”

Mateo’s stare was ice. “Do you want to die here, bleeding out on rotting wood? Or do you want a chance?”

Before Lorenzo could answer, the door burst open. Ricardo’s men stormed in, guns raised.

“Down! On your knees!” one barked.

Lorenzo’s teeth ground together. He lifted the knife slightly, ready to throw it, until Mateo dropped his weapon to the floor with a heavy clang. The sound echoed like betrayal in the hollow room.

Lorenzo’s head snapped toward him. “You son of a…”

A fist cracked across his face before he could finish. He staggered, blood spilling from his lip as the guards swarmed them both, shoving them to their knees.

And then Ricardo walked in.

He was calm, too calm, his tailored suit spotless, his cigar already lit. His gaze lingered on Mateo first, unreadable, before sliding to Lorenzo, who glared up at him with blood on his mouth.

Ricardo exhaled smoke slowly. “Look at this mess. My right hand, and my enemy’s reckless son, hiding together like rats.”

The guards chuckled under their breath, but Ricardo’s silence cut them short.

Finally, Ricardo stepped closer, polished shoes clicking against the cracked floor. He tilted Mateo’s chin up with the glowing end of his cigar. “Tell me, Mateo. Why should I not burn you alive right here?”

The heat singed his skin, but Mateo didn’t flinch. His voice was steady. “Because I’m still useful.”

Lorenzo barked a laugh despite the blood on his lips. “Useful? You turned on him in front of all his men. You made him bleed pride in front of wolves. There’s no coming back from that.”

Ricardo’s hand shot out, backhanding Lorenzo hard enough to split his lip wider. The crack echoed. “You will speak when spoken to, boy.”

Lorenzo spat blood at the floor, smirking through the pain. “Guess that’s a no, then.”

“Shut up,” Mateo hissed.

But Ricardo ignored their bickering. His eyes narrowed on Mateo. “Useful, you say? Convince me.”

Mateo’s breath came slowly, deliberately. “I know the De Lucas. Their movements, their safehouses, their weaknesses. Kill me, and you lose all of it. Keep me, and I’ll give you victory.”

Ricardo studied him, inhaling smoke. The silence stretched so long Lorenzo finally snapped, “He’s lying. He’s playing you. Can’t you see that?”

Mateo shot him a warning glare. “Shut up, Lorenzo.”

“No, let me guess…this is your way of proving loyalty?” Lorenzo spat. “Offer my family’s blood just to crawl back into his good graces? You really are his dog.”

Mateo’s voice broke into a growl. “I’m keeping us alive.”

“At what cost?” Lorenzo snarled back.

Ricardo’s laugh cut them both off, low, dangerous. “Ah, Mateo. Always so clever. Always thinking two steps ahead.” He flicked ash to the floor. “But betrayal cuts deep. You humiliated me in front of my men. That wound must be healed.”

He nodded. A guard shoved a metal bat into Mateo’s hands.

“Punish yourself,” Ricardo said softly. “Or I let them carve the De Luca boy into pieces before your eyes.”

The air froze. Even the guards glanced at one another.

Lorenzo blinked, then let out a bitter laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

Ricardo didn’t even look at him. His eyes were locked on Mateo, waiting.

Mateo’s hands clenched white around the bat. His chest rose and fell with jagged breaths.

“You can’t,” Lorenzo hissed. His voice cracked with something sharp, something raw. “Don’t do it, Cruz.”

Mateo shut his eyes for a moment, then raised the bat high, and slammed it into his ribs.

The crack made Lorenzo flinch. Pain ripped through Mateo’s body, his breath torn from his lungs, but he didn’t fall.

“Stop!” Lorenzo struggled against the men holding him. “He’ll kill himself!”

Another swing. The sound of bone meeting steel echoed through the room. Mateo staggered but stayed upright, sweat dripping down his face.

“Mateo!” Lorenzo’s voice tore out of him, fierce and desperate. “Don’t give him this! Don’t…”

“Shut him up,” Ricardo said lazily.

A guard jammed the butt of a gun into Lorenzo’s stomach, forcing a grunt of pain out of him. But he still kept shouting. “You think this proves loyalty? It just proves he owns you! You’re not free, Cruz! You never will be!”

Mateo swung again, and this time blood filled his mouth. His knees buckled, but his grip didn’t falter.

Ricardo raised his hand at last. “Enough.”

The bat clattered to the floor, echoing in the silence. Mateo dropped to one knee, chest heaving, ribs screaming.

Ricardo crouched down, his voice almost gentle. “See, boys? That is loyalty. That is devotion. Even broken, Mateo Cruz remembers who owns him.”

He straightened, glancing at his men. “Take them both. De Luca will make a fine bargaining chip and Mateo…” his smile was sharp, “ …he will earn his place back.”

The guards yanked Lorenzo and Mateo to their feet.

Lorenzo’s fury burned hotter than the blood on his lip. He hissed into Mateo’s ear, voice dripping venom. “You bow to him, even after everything. Tell me, Cruz, are you blind, or just afraid to be free?”

Mateo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Every breath was pain, every step a reminder of Ricardo’s leash.

But inside, under the bruises and blood, something twisted. Because Lorenzo’s words cut deeper than any bat.

Blind, afraid and chained and for the first time, Mateo wondered if saving Lorenzo hadn’t doomed them both, because Ricardo’s forgiveness was worse than death.