De Luca

Chapter 23

Hey guys, I know it's been a while. I've been very busy with work and home life. So I don't know when I'll be able to post another update. But I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think. Love you, my eager beautiful, and handsome readers. And as always, let me know if there are any mistakes.

NO ONE POV/THIRD PERSON POV

Celebrate death, for they no longer have to suffer in this cruel world, cry tears of sorrow for those that enter. This life that we live in is a constant battle for the survival of the fittest.

"Verdomme! Wat de fuck is er gebeurd?" Greg shouted, positioning his M107.50 Caliber long-range sniper rifle against his shoulder. The only figure he saw was the woman whose temperature is dropping.

"I got -what this motherfucker would call- shot at," De Luca told Greg. De Luca touches the cut on his face. The bullet that was meant to pierce his head grazed his temple. He rubbed the blood between his index and thumb finger as if testing the red liquid between them.

"Wat zijn m'n bevelen?"

"Don't shoot her or me," De Luca told Greg. He takes out a Bluetooth earpiece, sticking the phone in his pocket. "Word niet zo schietgraag, als ik hem niet meer aankan dan zal ik u zeggen. Voor nu leun achterover, ontspan en geniet van de show,"

De Luca looks at Trent and clicks his tongue. "Trent 'The Cockroach' Thomason," De Luca scoffed. "You should work on your aim," He chokes his head to the side, contemplating.

Trent rolled his shoulders. The man that stood in front of him did not dress like a cop. From what Marcus said, Santini and De Luca -Red Mask Devil -teamed up, which meant that this man must be De Luca. Realization slowly dawned on him as De Luca clicked his tongue.

Trent wasn't known for his bright mind; when Santini hired him, it was because he's expendable. Trent has only heard stories of the Red Mask Devil; he has never encountered him. But today was his lucky day.

He is going up against the man who is known to be ruthless when killing his enemies. De Luca clicked his tongue, once more out of boredom, ending their silent eye battled. De Luca walked to the door that Greg said Nathalie was in, his right hand near the handle.

Trent fired another shot, the bullet piercing De Luca's hand. As De Luca turned to fire a shot, Trent bear-hugged him, forcing all of his weight into him and slamming them in the door. The door collapses under their body weight, a gasp filling the room.

Nathalie was slipping in and out of sleep, fighting to survive. The distance gunshots were slowly dying out. Now it seemed like it was closer than she could guess. Bang! Her heart leaped. The sound of voices, somewhat being muffled. She keeps telling herself that she won't die like this. "If I die, I will die happy and during sex, while having my favorite chocolate,"

The door came crashing in, which, undoubtedly, helped her take the focus off the itching, burning pain of the stab wound. With one good eye, her right eye Nathalie gasp. As if breathing in a new type of air, she inhaled deeply.

De Luca kneed Trent in his ribcage, bringing down his left elbow onto the back of his neck. Trent tumbles off of De Luca, and De Luca wasted no time in delivering a severe front kick to Trent's face. De Luca did not give Trent any time to recover. Left, right, left, right, left, right quick, powerful, straight jabs to Trent's face.

Trent sticks his hands out, frantically swinging them around, hoping to touch anything. His right-hand grips a bottle, and with that, he breaks it over De Luca's face. That little stunt manages to put some distance between himself and De Luca.

Greg knew his boss was dangerous, but now he knew just how dangerous he is. Greg mentally noted never to cross paths, physically and mentally, with him. De Luca rarely uses him, and when he does, it's a simple guard dog duty from a long-range distance.

De Luca huffs out, highly irritated that this man does damage to his face in a very long time. A few small cuts, it still annoyed De Luca. A whisper of his name has him eyeing the figure in the corner of his eye. De Luca looks to where Nathalie sat, and for the first time, his exterior broke. Anger was written all over his face, clear as day.

Her face, severely beaten, to a point where the left side of her face is swollen. Her left eye, to his knowledge, most likely would lose vision. Her nightwear blouse drench in blood. He masked his exterior once more. De Luca walks over to Nathalie taking her face in the palm of his hand.

He clicked his tongue. "I thought it would be best to give Nat a makeover. I wanted her to look her very best for you before I killed her in front of you," Trent says, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Well, lucky for you, you'll be dead before any of that can happen," One shot, two shots, three. De Luca empties his clip.

"Will you..." Nathalie slowly breathes out. "Stop shooting."

"Half of the shooting isn't even me, yet you blame," De Luca points out in disbelief.

"Because...your closer. What took you so fucking long?" Nathalie's heartbeat flutters, she swallows, grimacing at the taste of blood.

"Oh, I'm sorry I did not put a tracking device on you. Oh no, I sure as hell should have known that your psycho of an ex kidnapped you, stabbed you, beat you, and stole my shit. Finding you was very easy. Oh no, no, that didn't take any time at all," De Luca sarcastically told Nathalie. She chuckles weakly. He took her face in the palm of his hand once more. He then checks her stab and sees that she's bleeding slowly. Slow bleeder was his conclusion.

"Go home, Greg," The line ended. De Luca removed his shirt, pressing the fabric against her wound. Nathalie hissed, clenching her fist. He walked over to a table, taking up the blood-covered knife that laid on it.

"Who's Greg,"

"No one. Shut up and don't die," De Luca demanded as he cuts Nathalie free from the duct tape that binds her to the chair. Nathalie bit her tongue, keeping her comment at bay. De Luca unties her; his right arm wraps around her back to support it.

Click. The sound of a gun cocked has De Luca withdrawing from Nathalie. He sighed out, looking to the ceiling. Trent stood, ripping his shirt, relieving the bulletproof vest. His other hand held the gun.

"It's like I said I gave her a makeover so you can watch her die," In the eyes of De Luca everything happened in slow motion. In the eyes of Nathalie, everything happened quickly. Trent turned the gun away from De Luca, aiming it to Nathalie.

De Luca threw the knife he was holding, aiming for the hand that held the very thing that threatens to take away his queen.

Bang!

De Luca's heart skips a bit as he lunges for Trent, attacking him to the floor. He slams Trent's body on the concrete floor, ripping the knife that lodges into his hand and stabbing him multiple times in the neck.

Nathalie squeezed her eye shut as she waited for what could be her very end. When the sound of the gun went off, she flinched. Her eyes remain closed, expecting pain to shoot through her body. But nothing came.

She opened her one right eye, inspecting herself. "He missed," Nathalie's heartbeat to the joy of Trent being an awful shot. She looks to where she last saw Trent standing.

The site she saw made her realize why Reds got his name.