The Shadow.
Luca.
The warehouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that makes your ears ring and your heartbeat louder.
I stood in the center, hands in my pocket, staring into the dim, flickering lights above. The air was thick with oil and the smell of decay, but I hardly noticed.
My attention was forward, to where the shadows shifted as the rival gang approached. Their leader strutted like he owned the place, his men flanking him with guns slung low and cocky grins plastered on their faces.
I didn't need to hear the taunts falling from their mouths to know how they were regarding me: the kid who clawed his way to the top of the ladder- a rank they thought they could knock me back down from.
Fools.
Their leader—Carlo—stopped a few feet away from me, his lips curling into a smirk. "You've been causing a lot of trouble in my territory, Luca." His voice dripped with fake confidence like he was trying to convince himself as much as his men. "But this ends tonight."
I leaned my head to the side, letting the silence stretch. Letting him squirm. He thought he had control because he was loud, but control didn't come from noise; it came from fear.
"Settle it?" I said finally, my voice as calm and even as could be, slicing through the air like a blade. "You're not here to negotiate. You're here to die."
I didn't wait for him to answer; my hand sprang up, and my men took hold, launching a storm into chaos. Gunfires shattered the air, that acrid taste of smoke attacking my lungs.
A thug charged at me from the side, swinging a crowbar like a madman. I ducked, the heavy metal whistling past my ear, driving my elbow into his ribs. He gasped and stumbled but I didn't give him the chance to recover. I grabbed his arm, twisting it until the crowbar clattered to the ground, then slammed him against a stack of crates.
One down.
The room was alive with chaos, but I was a shadow moving within that chaos with my senses razor-sharp. Another enemy aimed at one of my men, and instinctively, I raised my handgun.
One shot, clean and precise.
He crumpled to the floor before he even knew what hit him. I didn't feel guilty. Guilt was a luxury I couldn't afford.
My eyes scanned the room, taking in every movement, and every opportunity. Carlo was barking orders, his voice rising in panic as his men fell one by one.
I smirked.
He thought numbers would save him, but numbers didn't mean a thing without a strategy. A sudden movement swept my gaze around, and I saw one of my lieutenants pinned behind a stack of barrels. In an instant, I stepped into the open and fired two quick shots. Both threats fell, their bodies hitting the ground with a dull thud.
My lieutenant nodded in thanks, to which I returned a curt nod.
Carlo's men were broken, their confidence disintegrating with every second. Some tried to run, only to be intercepted by my crew. The tide had turned, and everyone in that room knew it. I turned my attention to Carlo. He was backing away now, his earlier bravado replaced with desperation. I followed him slowly, and deliberately, each step echoing ominously on the concrete floor.
"Wait!" he stuttered, his hands up as if that would stop me. "We can work something out!"
I didn't stop. Didn't speak.
His words meant nothing to me. When he finally hit the wall, trapped, I stepped closer, my face inches from his.
He reeked of sweat and fear. "You made a mistake," I said, my voice low and even. "You thought you could challenge me. Thought I was like you. But I don't fight for points or pride. I fight to win."
His lips quivered, but he said nothing. "You'll walk out of here," I continued, my voice colder than the steel knife in my hand. "But you'll tell everyone what happened. You'll tell them this is my territory now. And if anyone forgets..." I leaned in closer, letting him see the fire in my eyes. "I'll remind them."
He nodded frantically, his cowardice disgusting but useful.
I stepped back, letting him fall to the ground. My men had already started cleaning up, gathering weapons, and clearing the bodies. I turned away from Carlo, leaving him to scramble out the door with whatever scraps of dignity he had left. The fight was over, but I didn't feel triumph.
Just the cold satisfaction of a job done, another step taken. I'd have walked to the edge of this warehouse, daybreak's faded light filtering through its broken window; I stared beyond its jagged and unfeeling skyline. My world now lived by power alone, by strength of soul, by control and by bloody might.
Me. A king.