Matteo.
The metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils, sharp and suffocating. Luca’s knee drove deeper into my chest, pinning me to the blood-slick floor. The knife in his hand pressed harder against my throat, its edge biting into flesh with a cold, merciless precision.
Warmth spread across my neck, the metallic smell sharp in the air. I gasped, the air a fleeting luxury as my body thrashed instinctively beneath his weight.
“Look at you,” Luca sneered, his voice low, dripping with venom. “The great Matteo Nevarro reduced to this. Pathetic.”
His face hovered just above mine, his grin unhinged, his green eyes alight with triumph. My vision blurred, edges darkening as the oxygen slipped away. My hands clawed at his wrists, my fingers trembling with desperation, but his grip remained unyielding.
The lunatic was truly going to kill me.
Then, as the world began to darken, her face appeared.
Valentina.
Her laughter, light and rare, the way her lips curled despite the weight of her own pain. Her sharp, unforgiving eyes when she looked at me, daring me to be better.
The crack in her voice the last time she screamed at me, “I hate you.”
That memory hit like a blade to the chest. I had done so much wrong by her. Betrayed her trust. Broken her in ways she didn’t deserve. And now, lying here with my life slipping away, I realized the full weight of what I’d lost.
There were promises I would never keep. Words I’d never say. Apologies that would remain locked inside me forever.
I thought about all the nights I could’ve spent holding her, whispering to her that she wasn’t just another pawn in my war. That she was more than her scars. That she was the only thing that ever made me feel human.
But now, there was no time left.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as the knife pressed harder, its cold edge grazing deeper into my flesh. My head thrashed instinctively, but Luca’s weight was unrelenting.
And then, through the haze of pain, another face surfaced in my mind.
My mother.
I could still feel the softness of her hands brushing through my hair, hear her gentle voice as she hummed lullabies that promised safety in a world that offered none. She had been my sanctuary once, the only warmth in a life dominated by my father’s cruelty.
I thought about the last time I saw her, her tear-streaked face etched forever in my memory. The way her voice trembled when she tried to shield me from the horrors she endured.
Luca’s words earlier had been poison. “Your mother was a whore. She didn’t deserve the Nevarro name, and neither do you.”
My chest clenched, fury burning through the haze of despair. My mother wasn’t a whore. She was strong. She had fought to survive in a world that crushed the weak. And now, her memory would die here with me, tarnished by Luca’s lies.
Luca’s voice dragged me back to the present, sharp and mocking. “Any last words, brother?” he taunted, his grin widening. “Or are you too busy regretting all the mistakes that brought you here? You wanted justice for your whore of a mother? Well, here it is. This is justice.”
His laughter echoed in my ears, distorted and warped as if it were coming from underwater. My vision blurred further, the edges of the room dissolving into darkness.
And then my fingers brushed against something cold and familiar.
The hilt of the knife strapped to my thigh.
My heart stuttered, the world slowing around me as my hand closed around it. The leather grip was firm beneath my fingers, a lifeline in the chaos.
But I hesitated.
Would killing Luca bring back what I’d lost? Would it make me any different from him?
For years, I’d told myself I was fighting for justice… for my mother, for Valentina, for the Nevarro name. But now, as I lay here with Luca’s knife pressed against my throat, I wasn’t so sure.
Justice or revenge?
Was there even a difference anymore?
Luca’s voice snapped me from my thoughts, his mocking tone cutting through the fog of doubt. “Come on, Matteo. Fight back. Do something. Or is this where the mighty heir to the Nevarro throne finally dies, choking on his own failure?”
My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles white.
This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even about justice.
It was about Valentina.
Her name burned in my mind, a beacon in the storm. She deserved a chance… a life free from the chaos and violence that had consumed me. And Luca would never let her have that.
With a guttural roar, I thrust the blade upward, driving it deep into Luca’s back.
His eyes widened, and the gloating smirk wiped from his face in an instant. He gasped, his body jerking as the pain registered, his knife pressing harder against my neck.
This was it.
I had done the one thing I tried avoiding.
The sharp edge nicked deeper into my skin, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might finish the job.
Then Sophia can be the new Don of the Nevarro mafia gang. His mother desires would still be achieved.
But his hand faltered.
The blade met resistance before giving way, his shirt dampening beneath my hand. His gasp cut through the haze of pain, raw and desperate.
That was all I could see.
I had done my fair share of killing, and he would have killed me if I hadn’t done something, but seeing my half-brother like that on top of me…
Luca’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes locked onto mine, a mix of shock, rage, and something else… something I couldn’t quite place.
For a second, the world seemed to hold its breath, the room falling into a deafening silence.
None of his men came forward to help, and neither did Lorenzo’s men.
So I tightened my grip on the hilt, driving the blade in further, even as the corner of my eyes darkened even further, and I couldn’t really see anything anymore.
All I could feel was the blood seeping out of my neck.
I whispered with the last strength within me. “You don’t get to win.”
And the world gradually went black.