Luca POV:
The freezing wind howled across the barren dirt field of the Chicago Outfit’s lowest-tier training camp. The air tasted like cheap diesel, dried sweat, and copper blood.
I gritted my teeth. The two-hundred-pound canvas sandbag dug into my bruised shoulders. I squatted down into the freezing mud and launched myself forward in another agonizing frog jump.
Three feet to my right, Matteo stumbled. His prosthetic leg slipped in the deep, freezing sludge. He let out a choked gasp and collapsed face-first into the mud, the massive sandbag crushing him against the ground.
The drill instructor, a massive brute with a face full of knife scars, marched over. He didn't yell. He didn't tell Matteo to get up.
He raised his heavy combat boot, the sole studded with iron nails, and brought it down violently onto Matteo’s ribcage.
A sickening snap echoed across the silent yard. Matteo let out a high-pitched, slaughtered-pig scream, clutching his side as he rolled in the muck.
I threw my sandbag off my shoulders. I roared, lunging at the instructor with my fists raised, aiming for his throat.
The instructor simply stepped to the side. He swung his massive fist, burying his knuckles directly into my unhealed jaw.
White light exploded behind my eyes. I hit the mud hard, tumbling over twice before coming to a stop. I coughed, spitting a mouthful of black dirt and dark red blood onto the ground.
Around the yard, fifty bottom-tier thugs and dock workers erupted into cruel laughter. They pointed at us, mocking the former Lieutenants who used to command them.
The instructor walked over. He planted his heavy boot directly onto my chest, pinning me to the earth. He leaned down and spat a thick glob of saliva directly onto my cheek.
He told me I was worse than a stray dog. He told me I was garbage.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The humiliation burned through my veins like acid. Tears mixed with the freezing rain and ran into my mouth. I had never known what it felt like to be completely powerless.
Hours later, the sun went down. I dragged Matteo down a flight of concrete stairs into our assigned basement room.
There was no heater. The walls leaked dirty water. There was only one moldy mattress on the floor.
I laid Matteo down. He was shivering violently, holding his broken ribs, whimpering with every breath.
My coat pocket buzzed. I pulled out my phone. The screen was spider-webbed with cracks, but I could read the caller ID. Sofia.
My hands were covered in dried blood and mud. I pressed the answer button and held the phone to my ear.
Sofia did not ask how I was. She did not ask if I was safe. A shrill, hysterical scream blasted through the speaker.
She yelled that she had been chased by loan sharks. She screamed that one of them had scratched her cheek with a ring. She demanded that I wire her one hundred thousand dollars immediately to pay them off.
I stood in the freezing, dark basement. I looked at the water dripping from the ceiling. I listened to Matteo crying in pain.
The filter in my brain completely shattered. I saw her. I finally saw her exactly as she was.
"Do you know how we are living right now?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Matteo’s ribs are broken. We are sleeping in the mud."
Sofia went silent for one second. Then, her voice turned venomous. She cursed me. She called us pathetic, useless garbage who couldn't even protect a woman.
Her words hit me like a rusty hammer to the skull.
My mind flashed back to the grand hall of the Vitiello estate five years ago. I saw Elena. I saw her drop to her knees on the freezing marble floor, bowing her head to the ruthless council, begging them to spare my life after I had made a critical error.
A low, dark chuckle rumbled in my chest. It grew louder, echoing off the concrete walls of the basement until I was laughing like a madman.
Sofia yelled at me to stop laughing, screaming that I was insane.
My laughter died. My eyes turned as cold and dead as the Chicago winter. "You are a bloodsucking monster," I whispered.
I didn't wait for her to reply. I ended the call. I threw the phone against the concrete wall with all my strength. It shattered into a dozen useless pieces.
I walked over to the small, cracked mirror hanging over the rusted sink. I looked at the filthy, bruised, pathetic creature staring back at me.
I pulled my fist back and punched the glass. The mirror exploded. Sharp shards sliced into my knuckles, but I didn't feel the pain.
"I will climb back up. Even if I have to step over corpses, I will go to New York and take her back."
