Revenge Served Cold.
Leo Point Of View.
“What a fucking piece of shit!” I muttered underneath my breath as I sigh.
The city never really sleeps whenever I am present, it flinches.
It pretends to rest, it quiets its streets, lowers its lights and hides its dirt behind glass and chrome, but I know better because I own half of what lives in the dark.
I am Leo Vicenzo, the unforgiving Mafia.
They call me a ghost, some a shadow, while the rest, a myth.
But that’s only because the people who know me best tend not to live long enough to talk because my name just does- n’t ring bells, it rings hammers.
“Get me a glass of whiskey.” I ordered my maid who quickly walked away leaving me alone in my office.
I sat at the far end of a private cigar lounge, deep inside a building that doesn’t appear on any map. The room smelled of aged smoke, old leather, and blood money, my back was to the wall, always.
I never sit with my back exposed even in my own domain because I trust no one and I know how many enemies will love to have me dead.
I wore black, always black. No shine or flash, just the kind of tailored precision that says that I don’t make threats, I make graves instead.
The others in the room didn’t speak to me unless I asked them a question, that’s not fear, that’s respect because in this world, the only difference between a businessman and a boss is whether or not you’ve buried the people who crossed you, and I’ve buried many.
The face of Ronan flashes through me.
I smirked evilly as I picked up my gun, my fingers traced its body.
“Oh dear Ronan, I hope you haven’t forgotten me that quickly.” My lips stretched further as I sniffed the gun, the smell of blood was the only thing that kept me alive.
The memory of how I met Ronan, six years ago came falling in.
Ronan Lancaster.
Back then, he wasn’t the slick corporate icon he pretends to be now. He was ambitious, yes, sharp jaw, slick tongue, all charm and tailored suite
but beneath all of that, Ronan was starving.
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The kind of man who would shake your hand with one, and hide a blade in the other.
He came to me for power, wanting access to port routes I controlled along the east coast, routes that weren’t on paper, but made people very rich, very quietly.
He needed the leverage, I needed a front-facing corporate name to clean certain transactions.
It was business.
He played the role well, he was useful, and he showed respect.
Ronan called me Sir, never asked too many questions, and he always moved the money on time. In return, I gave him the kind of access that turned men into empires.
We shook hands, shared whiskey, to the point that I considered him a friend, very foolish of me to have trusted a ser- pent like him.
I made two horrible mistakes when it came to Ronan, the first was that I let my guard down, while the second was that I gave him too much which made the son of a bitch greedy.
The night it all burned down was a quiet one. I can still remember clearly like it was yesterday, I was at a warehouse port in Jersey, one of my quieter transit lanes, clean, hidden, and no paper trail.
Suddenly, a time bomb exploded at exactly 2:37 AM. I was shocked and thought I was under an attack, quickly, I took cover, hoping that no one was hurt but to my dismay, three of my trusted men died that night, while a fourth bled out in the alley before the ambulance ever arrived.
It wasn’t never an accident, it was a setup..
At first, for weeks I tried to figure out what happened, no one knew about my hidden layout and how one could place a time bomb in it.
I began to distrust myself and it was driving me insane. I decided to hire someone to look into it and find out who might have caused it. To my dismay, I got reports that Ronan had given information to federal agents, anonymously, of course, through a third shell company, through a burner account that took me six months to trace.
By the time I pieced it together, the bastard had already cleaned the money, shut down the deal, and walked away
with double what he’d invested.
He never returned my calls, never offered an explanation, but he didn’t have to because a week later, I watched him walk into a gala wearing a tux I’d once paid for and smile for the cameras like he hadn’t just betrayed the devil.
I could’ve had him killed a long time ago, I had the means and killing someone like Ronan was a piece of cake for
I had the names, routes, and weapons, but I am not a savage, I am worse, and patient. I have been planning my re- venge for six years and I intend to make Ronan die a slow but very painful death.
Since that night, I have waited to hear fro nan, you don’t aim for his skin.
him, not because I am weak, but because when you strike a man like Ro-
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You aim for his soul.
I have watched his empire rise, watched the headlines fawn over him. I have seen him smile through interviews like his hands aren’t soaked in blood and stolen power.
But his time is almost up, and when I come for him, it won’t be bullets. It’ll be ruined and there is no better partner than Zyrah Callisto Acternum.
At 7:02 pm, I was seated in my operations room in the heart of Virello, my city beneath the city. Six monitors flick- ered in front of me, cach displaying live feeds from different strongholds in my network.
Kaelmoor, Veskarra.m, Orienfeld, Dalvoss. Kareth, and Tenzra, each city danced with its own sins.
Each one whispered my name, even if they didn’t know it.
Behind me stood Ricco, dressed in gray with tactical calm stitched into every inch of his posture. He was a former military but after saving his life a year ago, he is now mine.
“The package from Orienfeld just cleared customs,” Ricco reported, his voice crisp. “Clean bill and no scans, the port master’s signature was exactly where we planted it.”
“Good,” I murmured.
I reached for the crystal glass on the desk, midnight scotch, aged in barrels older than some countries. It tasted like old fire and darker promises.
“Kareth?” I asked, swirling the liquid.
“Dropped last night, it moved through the tunnels, and we replaced the district’s inspector with one of our plants last week, not a single eye blinked.”
“Perfect.” I smirked.
Ricco waited.
“Pull 2.5 million from the Veskarra vault,” I said. “Send it through one of the offshore shells. Route it to the Dalvoss Institute for Historical Preservation, tell them it’s for the cathedral restoration project.”
Ricco’s brow twitched slightly. “Are you still playing benefactor, boss?”
“No,” I said. “I’m buying silence before I need it.”
He gave a single nod.
This is how my empire breathes
I don’t raise my voice nor do I make threats, Instead, I give choices, and wait.
By 10:15 p.m, I stepped out of a black armored GhostSeries limo in front of Club Luxora, nestled at the highest tier of
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Revenge Served Cola.
the city’s elite skyline.
No sign or line, neither were there cameras, only those who were already named on the night’s whispered guest list were allowed through.
The guards didn’t look me in the eye.
I walked through the gold-trimmed archway, through the pulse of bass and bodies, past velvet curtains and glass chandeliers shaped like falling stars.
The VIP level hovered above the chaos like a throne room.
I didn’t sit.
I stood near the bar, drink in hand, the lighting low and deliberate, smoke curling like fingers across the room. My gaze swept the floor, patient, slow, methodical.
Then I saw her.
She walked through the haze like a promise she couldn’t keep.
Dark waves of hair, a silk red dress that clung to her curves like desire itself. Every movement was designed to be seen, and she made damn sure she was.
She is Seline, Ronan’s lover.
I watched her laugh, drape herself on some no-name in a tailored blazer. Her lips grazed his neck as her eyes glittered like she believed she was untouchable but she wasn’t, she hadn’t been for years.
She just didn’t know that I have been tracking her for a long time through my men. Not just because of Ronan or be- cause she moves like a queen but doesn’t realize she was born a pawn, but because women like her, they’re dangerous in the way fireworks are dangerous.
Pretty to watch, loud when they go off, but destined to burn out and leave ash.
“You’ve danced too long, Seline, and I have watched every step, every lie, and every betrayal.”
My lips stretched into an evil smirk.
I didn’t approach her, I didn’t need to.
The best traps are the ones that come dressed as nothing at all so I watched her and smiled, a dark, cold, and patient
one.
“Keep dancing, little flame, one night soon, I’ll be the wind that puts you out and you will be the concluding part of my revenge.”
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