CHAPTER 58: THE END OF US

Lucien and Vincent locked eyes. Their mouths stayed still, but the silence between them spoke louder than anything they could have said.

Pain, betrayal, anger... everything simmered together into one vicious, boiling thing.

And for Lucien, there were only two ways to release it: beat Vincent into pulp or kill him.

Nothing in between.

Vincent tilted his head, voice laced with mockery. "What’s wrong, Lucien? Don’t tell me you can’t swing because you still think of me as family. I was never De Luca. Never Lucero. You don’t owe me anything."

Lucien let out a sharp laugh. "What makes you think I can’t kill you?"

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "You’re not family anymore. You’re a rat, Vincent. And rats should stay on all fours."

Lucien jumped to him fast. There was no warning, not even the twitch of a shoulder. One heartbeat they were staring each other down, the next his fist drove straight into Vincent’s wounded shoulder.

The hit landed solidly, right on the spot where the bullet had torn through earlier. Vincent’s breath cracked.

His body folded for a moment before instinct forced him to straighten again.

"Fight fair, damn it!"

Pain shot across Vincent’s face, but he recovered fast enough to swing back. His knuckles grazed Lucien’s jaw, not enough to stagger him but enough to sting.

Lucien felt the heat from the blow, tasted the metallic hint of blood blooming inside his mouth, and it only sharpened his focus.

"Fair and square? For the one who betrayed me?" he laughed as he wiped the blood from his mouth, "Don’t joke around, Vincent! You stab me from the back, you bastard!"

He lunged again, hand slashing out to strike the same wounded shoulder, this time harder as his emotion won against any reasoning.

"Arrggh!"

Vincent hissed as his arm weakened, muscles trembling under the strain of keeping up.

"It’s your family that betrayed me first!" he screamed, "You, with your arrogance, always thought I would never stand on the same level as you!"

Vincent refused to back down. He caught Lucien’s wrist and forced it aside, turning his body to slam his elbow toward Lucien’s ribs.

The hit connected. Lucien’s breath tightened but he stayed steady, his stance unwavering.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lucien shot back.

"My family dragged you out of the slums and made you into something better. You owe them your life, not betrayal."

Lucien’s shout came from somewhere deeper than anger. Something old and raw.

Betrayal? Nonsense. Absolute nonsense.

The rhythm of their fight fell into something harsh and desperate.

Vincent’s movements grew heavier as the pain dragged him down, while Lucien’s steps seemed to get cleaner, clearer, almost spitefully calm.

"Of course you won’t understand, you are a golden boy. Everywhere you go everyone bow to you!" Vincent shouted.

"Look at me! Look at how desperate I am! Do you think I wanted to betray you, it’s your family that destroyed me and my mother first!"

Vincent aimed a punch at Lucien’s face, but his arm faltered halfway. Lucien slipped past it and drove his knee into Vincent’s stomach.

Vincent stumbled back, clutching himself, dragging in air that refused to fill his lungs properly.

His eyes lifted just enough to meet Lucien’s stare, full of heat and accusation.

"You are in this pathetic state because of yourself. Don’t blame me for something you won’t be able to reach," Lucien gritted his teeth, "And I stand as Don of Lucero because I fought for it. Nothing was handed to me."

"You saw how hard I try! How dirty my hands were! How much I lost! Don’t you dare belittle my hard work and sacrifice!"

Vincent pushed forward again, refusing to respond. He grabbed Lucien by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, or at least tried to.

"And still my suffering is invisible to you, right?"

Blue ocean met with amethyst as the only thing they reflected was misery and betrayal.

Lucien twisted with the momentum and reversed it, sending Vincent crashing to the floor instead. The sound rang through the hallway, sharp and final.

Vincent groaned, forcing himself to roll over and rise, but Lucien was already on him. He stepped hard on Vincent’s shoulder wound.

"AHHHHHH!!!"

The pressure ripped a scream from Vincent’s throat before he could swallow it. His body tensed under the weight, fingers scraping against the floor as he tried to pull himself free.

Lucien pressed down a little more, just enough to make Vincent’s vision blur.

"You planned to betray me and walk away," Lucien said, breath steady as if the fight had barely warmed him. "You thought you could do it twice."

Vincent tried to speak, but the words broke apart into ragged sounds. His body shook as he struggled to breathe properly.

Lucien lowered himself slightly, just enough so Vincent could see the gun now pointed at his forehead. The cold barrel hovered against his skin, calm and merciless.

"I never once thought of you as an outsider. I never dismissed your pain. I know it well, because I carry the same wounds."

His gaze dimmed, shadows gathering in his eyes. "You know I’m an omega. You know what that means in my family. No matter how strong I become, my rank will always be beneath everyone."

His breath hitched, something fragile flickering through him. "And still, I always saw you as my brother. The real one. The only one I believed would never betray me."

A quiet laugh slipped from him, bitter at the edges. "But you did. And if you could do it, then everyone would."

The truth in his voice was raw, scraped down to bone. He always told himself betrayal didn’t matter, that rats came and went, that he could punish them and move on. But this wasn’t a soldier or a pawn at his feet.

This was blood. This was family.

And for a Lucero, family meant everything.

Vincent’s breath stuttered. Guilt twisted in his eyes, tangled with a denial.

His fingers twitched upward, as if a part of him still wanted to reach for Lucien, to push him away, to defend himself, but the will had already drained from his body.

Blood trickled from the edge of his wound, soaking into the floor beneath him.

Lucien’s foot stayed planted on the torn flesh of Vincent’s shoulder. The pressure did not ease. The gun stayed firm, perfectly still, waiting for the slightest twitch that could justify the end.

And Vincent, flat on his back, finally understood he had no ground left to stand on.

"Then shoot me," Vincent whispered. "Shoot me and free me from the pain your precious family carved into me."

"Good bye brother."

Lucien pulled the trigger. The gunshot split through the narrow alley, swallowing everything else.