Page 52 of Untamed

And I stay standing. I like the edge it gives me.

“What is this urgent business you wanted to discuss that couldn’t wait until after breakfast, dear brother?” Luciano inquired, his tone laced with a hint of impatience as he sipped his morning espresso, the rich aroma curling into the air.

“Alessandro Romano,” I answer, my voice dropping to a hushed whisper, though my eyes remain fixed intently on Luciano's. “When you asked me to handle the one causing chaos in Messina, were you aware that he had put a hit on Matteo?”

Enzo’s posture instantly stiffens, as if a scorching iron rod had been thrust up his ass, causing him to bolt upright. Luciano's brows knit together in a deep furrow, his expression thoughtful as he draws a long, contemplative pull from his cigar. The smoke swirls around him like a veiled mystery. “I had caught wind of rumours, faint murmurs suggesting he was plotting against the family. But I didn’t know it was Matteo,” he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and resolve.

“He knows better than to put my name on the contract. So, he went for someone he thought was easier to reach.”

“Quel figlio di puttana.” Enzo bites out, pacing like he needs to hit something.

“Romano hired Sergio Bianchi to take out Matteo,” I tell them flatly.

“But Matteo did what he always does, the unexpected. He swerved at the last second, and Sergio overcorrected. Clipped the car in front and sent the car spinning into oncoming traffic.”

I look directly at my father.

Enzo freezes. His dark eyes wide and his jaw clenched. “Cazzo,” he hisses, fists clenched at his sides. “Ares, are you telling me my wife’s parents are dead because of us? Because of a hit meant for Matteo?”

I nod once. Controlled and contained, but something inside my chest tightens.

The memory of Jordyn on the CCTV footage, blood on her face, her hands, screaming and fighting in Matteo’s hold hits me like a wrecking ball to the gut. I’d kill Sergio again if I could.

“Romano wanted blood, he didn’t care whose. Their parents were collateral.”

Silence stretches around us. “The next day Dante found Sergio. Hiding like a rat in Trapani.” I add, my voice colder now. “We brought him to Oscura.”

Neither my brother nor father of speak.

They don’t need to.

They’re both waiting for the same thing... the fate of the man who thought he could touch a Russo and live. “First, I got the name, then I slit his throat. Watched him drown in it.” Beside me Enzo flinches and Luciano doesn’t even blink.

“Romano’s not stupid. He’ll know the body’s ours, Ares.”

I nod. “He already does.”

Luciano’s eyes sharpen and he leans forward. “Che cossa hai fatto?”

“I had Dante leave Sergio at Romano’s gate,” I reply. “Strung him up by his heels. Let the blood run down his steps and pool at the door.” I explain evenly. “I wanted him to understand it wasn’t just a warning. It’s a promise.” I pause. Not for effect, but control. “It was a consequence. You come after a Russo; you don’t get to die clean.”

Luciano leans back slowly, eyes narrowing through the smoke curling off his cigar.

There’s no shock on his face. Just satisfaction.

“Bene,” he says simply. “He needed to be reminded what kind of blood runs in this family.”

Enzo’s still pacing. He stops with a sharp exhale, running both hands through his hair like he’s trying to hold something in.

“Jesus, Ares.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t just send a message. You declared war.”

I glance at him, calm and controlled. Hell, the corner of my lip even twitches.

“War?” I tsk. “No. I’m going to rain hell on those bastards, and I won’t stop until every last one of them remembers who these streets belong to.”

I take a step forward, my voice dropping an octave. “First, I’m going to gut Romano. Strangle him with his own intestines. Then I’m going after Luca Moretti.”

I don’t even finish the sentence before Luciano slams his palm down on the desk.

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