Vincezo seat on a stool trying to take control of his own body but it seems too impossible,he remembers the words if the fortune teller ,"you cant leave past 30 years",he smiled bitterly and held unto the table,As Vincenzo clenched the edge of the table, his mind raced, the fortune teller's words echoing in his ears like a haunting melody. "You can't leave past 30 years." The curse. It had been a joke to him back then, a mere warning, something he dismissed as superstition. But now, as his body trembled and fought against him, it felt more like a death sentence.
The cold sweat on his brow mixed with the sharp taste of metal in his mouth. His hands, once steady and lethal, now shook uncontrollably. Vincenzo's vision blurred as the sensation of being trapped in his own skin intensified. His chest tightened, each breath coming in shallow gasps as if his body was rejecting him.
Is this it? He thought. Is this how I die?
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, the harsh sound jarring against his fractured concentration.
"Vincenzo," Lucia's voice, calm and collected, drifted through the wood, her tone barely a whisper, yet it carried a weight. "We need to talk."
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the wave of nausea back down. His heart raced as the animal inside him stirred, its presence growing stronger with each passing moment. He couldn't let it take control. Not now. Not when his family needed him.
"Come in," he grunted, his voice hoarse and strained.
The door creaked open, and Lucia stepped inside, her eyes immediately assessing him. She didn't say a word at first, just stood there, waiting for him to find his footing. When Vincenzo didn't move, she took a few slow steps forward, her heels clicking against the cold stone floor.
"You look like hell," she finally remarked, her lips twitching into the hint of a smirk. But Vincenzo saw the coldness in her eyes, the same detachment she'd shown during the ambush. It was unsettling.
"I feel like hell," he muttered, his voice still shaky. His hands gripped the table harder, his knuckles white. Don't show weakness. Don't let her see you like this.
Lucia's gaze softened, just for a moment, before it hardened again. "The deal went south, Vincenzo. You know that wasn't random." She moved closer, her steps measured, as if she were treading on dangerous ground. "Someone inside tipped them off."
Vincenzo's eyes snapped to hers. His suspicion, though clouded by the illness, flared up like a sudden fire. "You think I don't know that?" he hissed, rising slowly from the stool. The beast inside him growled in agreement, eager for violence. He pushed it back, forcing himself to focus. "Who? Who did this?"
Lucia's lips parted, her gaze flickering ever so briefly toward the door before returning to meet his burning stare. "I have my suspicions," she said quietly. "But I'm not the one in charge here, am I, Vincenzo?"
His pulse quickened. The way she said it, the way her eyes narrowed, it was almost like a challenge. He could feel the walls of his control crumbling, but he couldn't let her see it. Not yet.
"You're not in charge," he growled through clenched teeth. His fingers curled into fists, but they trembled, betraying his weakness. He didn't care. "I'll find the traitor. No one betrays me."
Lucia remained calm, her eyes unwavering. She stepped closer, her voice soft but full of an unsettling certainty. "You will, Vincenzo. But in the end, you'll have to confront not just the traitor. You'll have to confront the real enemy."
He could feel the tension rising, an almost physical weight pressing down on his chest. The words hung in the air between them, thick with meaning. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lucia's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You're losing control, Vincenzo. You're no longer the man you were." She paused, letting her words sink in. "And that, my dear leader, makes you vulnerable."
Before Vincenzo could respond, Lucia turned on her heel and walked to the door. As she left, her voice lingered in the silence. "We'll see who you become when the truth comes out."
The door clicked shut behind her, and Vincenzo was left alone with his thoughts, his illness, and a growing sense of dread. The beast within him stirred again, its growl deep and menacing. And as he stood there, trying to keep himself together, he realized that Lucia's words were no empty threat. They were a warning.
He was running out of time.