Fated reborn - Chapter 220: Chapter 220

Victor's POV.
The minutes stretched, thick with tension, the kind that wrapped itself around your throat and squeezed just tight enough to remind you it was there. I stood near the entrance to the lounge, arms crossed, back straight, eyes sharp. Every muscle in my body was coiled, ready.
Luciano sat in his usual spot, one leg crossed over the other, fingers drumming lazily against the armrest of his chair. A picture of ease, but I knew better. Beneath that calm exterior was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Matteo entered first, a quick nod signaling that D’Angelo and his men had arrived. The heavy doors swung open, and in they walked, five of them, their eyes scanning the room, taking stock of every possible exit, every potential threat. But their boss—D’Angelo—kept his gaze trained on Luciano.
“Luciano.” he said, His voice was smooth, practiced. Like he thought he could walk in here and play this off. Like he thought he could stand in front of an Alpha and pretend he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Luciano didn’t stand. Didn’t even look at him at first. Just a long, heavy silence before he finally lifted his gaze, dark and unreadable.
“D’Angelo.” His tone was soft. Too soft. The kind of soft that made your stomach twist because you knew what was coming next wouldn’t be pleasant.
D’Angelo stepped forward, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “No need for hostility. We’re all businessmen here.” he said.
Luciano exhaled through his nose. “Businessmen,” he repeated, like the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth. His fingers stopped drumming. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tell me, D’Angelo, since when do businessmen steal from their partners?”
D’Angelo’s smirk didn’t falter, but his fingers twitched slightly at his side. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I assure you, my shipments—”
“Are being moved through my sector without permission,” Luciano cut in, his voice colder now. “And your men are distributing product without tribute.”
D’Angelo’s jaw clenched. “There must be some kind of misunderstanding—”
I chuckled, shaking my head as I pushed off the wall. “Misunderstanding?” I repeated, stepping closer. “Your men are downstairs, broken and bloody, and trust me, they weren’t misunderstood. They talked.”
D’Angelo’s eyes flickered, just for a second, but I caught it. The realization settling in. He knew he was caught. The game was over, and he was standing in a room full of wolves with nowhere to run.
Luciano tilted his head slightly, watching him. “I gave you territory. I gave you power. And this is how you repay me?”
D’Angelo’s men tensed. One of them shifted slightly to the side, just enough to make me place a hand on the knife strapped to my thigh. No sudden movements. Not yet.
“I respect you, Luciano,” D’Angelo said slowly. Carefully. “I always have.”
Luciano’s lips twitched. Amusement? Or was it something darker? “Respect,” he mused, tapping his fingers against his knee again. Then, suddenly, he stood. The air shifted, thickened. D’Angelo straightened but didn’t back away. He wasn’t that stupid.
Luciano stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “If you respected me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
D’Angelo swallowed. “We can fix this. Work something out.”
Luciano’s head tilted, considering. “Oh, we will. But not in the way you’re hoping.”
Before D’Angelo could react, Luciano’s hand shot forward, gripping his throat, shoving him back against the wall so hard the room seemed to shake. His men moved, but Matteo and I were faster, guns drawn, aimed. Nobody dared take another step.
Luciano leaned in close, his voice a whisper against D’Angelo’s ear. “You tried to play me. Tried to steal from me. That’s not something I overlook.”
D’Angelo’s fingers clawed at Luciano’s wrist, struggling, gasping. “Please—”
Luciano let go abruptly, letting him drop to his knees, coughing, sucking in air.
“Get up.” he said
D’Angelo obeyed, shakily rising to his feet, face flushed, eyes burning with humiliation. But not defiance. That had been stripped away.
Luciano straightened his suit, exhaling slowly. “You’re going to make this right. You’re going to hand over everything you took. Triple my cut for the next six months. And you’re going to watch as I take a piece of your empire to remind you who you serve.”
D’Angelo’s fists clenched, but he nodded, because he knew he had no other choice.
Luciano smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “Good.”
I lowered my weapon, Matteo did the same, but the tension still crackled in the air.
Luciano turned his back to D’Angelo, walking toward his desk, dismissing him without another glance. “Get out.”
D’Angelo didn’t hesitate. He turned, his men falling in line behind him, and they left without another word.
The moment the doors shut behind them, I exhaled a quiet laugh. “That went well.”
Luciano didn’t respond at first, just staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “He’ll comply,” he finally said. “For now.”
I nodded. “And when he doesn’t?”
Luciano turned slightly, a ghost of a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “Then we remind him why he should have.”
I grinned, shaking my head. “You’re ruthless.”
Luciano’s eyes met mine, dark, calculating. “That’s why we’re still standing.”
A beat passed, silence settling in before I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Make sure he follows through.”
Luciano nodded once. “Do that.”
And just like that, the room fell back into the kind of quiet only men like us could understand. The kind that wasn’t really quiet at all.