CHAPTER 30: NINE YEARS AGO: ADDIO, AMORE MIO

The sharp tang of blood and gunpowder filled the air, clinging to the back of Lucien’s throat as smoke drifted through the broken warehouse windows.

The dawn had long passed—sunlight pierced through bullet holes and dust clouds—but the sound of screams and gunfire still swallowed everything.

The plan had failed.

Someone had leaked their attack, and the Scraps were ready. Lucien didn’t care who. Rage drove him forward as he fired with ruthless precision, each shot finding a skull or chest. He never missed.

Behind him, Vincent covered his flank, firing in short, panicked bursts until a hulking man charged out from behind a stack of crates.

Vincent barely had time to react before the man’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Lucien!" Vincent shouted through clenched teeth.

Lucien turned, narrowly dodging the next blow as he stepped back and raised his gun, but before he could pull the trigger, the man jerked violently and collapsed, a clean hole through his head.

Damien stood behind the corpse, gun still smoking. "I got your back. Let’s move!"

Lucien gave him a short nod and crouched to help Vincent up.

"Man, you really need to learn how to shoot," Damien muttered, shaking his head.

Vincent winced, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, well, I’m good at everything else."

Lucien exhaled sharply, scanning the dim expanse of the warehouse. "Save it for later. I only see soldiers, we need to find Vulture. He is hiding deeper inside. Move."

They advanced through the maze of towering shelves and shipping containers, boots echoing against the concrete floor.

Abandoned machinery loomed around them, half-shattered by stray bullets. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and the metallic scent of death.

The war for the south had truly begun.

Lucien was growing anxious. Twilight and Velour still hadn’t answered him; their last words were, "The situation’s under control." Then, silence. The connection went dead.

What happened to them? Did they betray me or was it the other way around? he wondered.

The soldiers with them came from various capos, so betrayal wasn’t impossible. If they had turned on Twilight and Velour, then Lucien’s situation had just gone from bad to catastrophic.

Unfortunately, his suspicion proved right. The warehouse suddenly burst into flames, forcing them to retreat as fast as possible. The place was full of drugs, weapons, and other contraband: a fire hazard waiting to become a deadly inferno.

The heat alone was enough to make the air tremble, and the risk of explosions or poisonous fumes made staying any longer a death sentence.

When they reached the front door, Lucien froze. Twilight and Velour were standing there with their hands raised and guns behind their back.

Behind them stood about a dozen men, and at the center of them all was the Vulture—an old man with a bald head and piercing green eyes, grinning like a viper that had already caught its prey.

"Give up, brat," Vulture sneered.

"You know you can’t win. A child like you shouldn’t be carrying such a heavy burden, especially a beta."

He let out a mocking laugh. "Your kind should be working in an office, earning minimum wage instead of running a mafia. Right, boys?"

His men laughed along, but Lucien barely heard them. His sharp eyes scanned their faces one by one, memorizing each name, each capo they belonged to.

When this was over, he’d make sure none of them lived to laugh again.

Something in his stare made them falter. The laughter died off, replaced by uneasy shifting and lowered gazes.

Lucien scoffed. "And there he is, our so-called alpha, only brave enough to stab from behind. At least I didn’t have to crawl like a rat, scraping crumbs off someone else’s plate. Everything I have, I earned in the open."

Vulture’s face turned red with fury. He grabbed Twilight by the hair and pressed a gun to his head. "You bastard! I was trying to be civil, but now you’ve done it."

His grin turned twisted. "Let’s make a deal. You can have your capos back and this warehouse too. All I want is you. I’ll show everyone what a good beta is really for in bed."

"You filthy bastard!" Damien roared, raising his pistol.

"How dare you threaten my Don! You’re dead, Vulture!"

Vulture’s men instantly drew their weapons. In a split second, the air thickened with the tension of impending gunfire.

But Lucien stayed calm. He knew exactly what Twilight and Velour were doing—they were testing him. His decision here would determine their loyalty.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. He tossed his gun aside and raised his hands.

"Fine. Let’s trade. But release my men first."

Vincent and Damien turned on him at once. "What?! Are you insane?!" they shouted in unison, trying to stop him, but Lucien didn’t move. He walked straight toward Vulture, unflinching.

Vulture’s grin widened. He stepped closer and suddenly kicked Lucien in the stomach, forcing a grunt of pain from the Don.

Leaning in close, he whispered with a disgusting chuckle, "You’ll enjoy this, boy. I’ve had my eyes on that pretty face for a long time. Maybe I’ll let the others join too."

Lucien’s lips curled into a smirk. In an instant, he grabbed Vulture’s head and slammed his knee upward, connecting hard with the man’s jaw. The impact sent the old bastard crashing to the ground, groaning in agony.

The chaos that followed was swift. Twilight and Velour spun around and seized the guns from the men behind them, firing before the traitors could react.

Damien and Vincent joined in, bullets flashing through the smoke and heat. Lucien didn’t stop there, he straddled the fallen Vulture, punching him again and again until blood splattered across his own face.

"Fuck you! You think this pathetic trick would work on Twilight and Valour? They’re seasoned fighters, you dumbass!"

Lucien laughed, his voice half-mad as his fist crashed down again, this time shattering Vulture’s nose. Blood sprayed across his knuckles, hot and metallic.

The man beneath him struggled weakly, landing useless blows against Lucien’s body.

"S-sorry... please, don’t kill me," he whimpered, but his words barely reached Lucien through the roar of his pulse.

Lucien didn’t stop. Blood covered his face, his chest, his hands—every strike a release of everything festering inside him.

Rage for the plan that failed. Rage for humiliation. Rage for betrayal.

And above all, rage for Edmund, who abandoned him.

"YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?!" Lucien screamed, his fists pounding harder, faster, until the wet sound of impact drowned out everything else.

He didn’t notice when Vulture stopped moving. He didn’t even hear the gunfire fade beneath the deafening boom of the warehouse exploding. Only when Damien pulled him back, shouting his name, did Lucien blink and realize it was over.

Lucien had won. But at what cost?

"Lucien! We need to get out of here!" Damien’s voice reached him as if underwater. Lucien could only nod numbly.

"Run! This place is collapsing!"

Lucien stumbled to his feet and ran. His mind was empty, his body moving on instinct. In his head, he was still on top of Vulture, still striking, still drowning in fury. It all felt unreal—until someone shoved him forward, just as the warehouse caved in behind him.

When he turned, Damien was gone, swallowed by the flames and rubble.

Lucien’s breath caught. The man who had protected him, dragged him out of hell, was gone because of him. His weakness killed Damien.

"DAMN YOU!"

Lucien screamed at the sky, at the gods who thought it funny to make him an omega in a world built for alphas. To any God that thought laugh when he fell in love with the jerk who abandoned him.

That rage burned bright in his heart, but even the wildfire started from the small smoke, and turned into a fire that could swallow everything. He promised to burn Lucero to the ground and raise it from the ashes just like a phoenix, just like what he wanted, his own design.

The rain came heavy and cold, washing the blood from his skin, soaking the ground beneath his knees.

He saw the faint headlights of a car driving past. Inside, behind the glass, was the man he loved. With the same golden eyes and green eyes that weren’t as warm anymore.

Edmund’s cold gaze met him for a fleeting second as if mocking him before the car disappeared into the distance.

Lucien didn’t chase it. He didn’t scream. He only laughed, a bitter and hollow sound that rang louder than the rain.

How foolish he’d been, believing love existed between them. The truth was cruel and simple. The only one who was in love was him. Edmund had merely been playing with a new, interesting toy and he was easily deceived by it.

Now, there was nothing left inside Lucien’s heart.

He closed his eyes, the rain soaking his hair, and whispered softly, "Addio, amore mio. I’m alone now."