Saint Or Sinner?

Twenty Two

Luciano's point of view

I sat at the head of the table, the dim light casting long shadows over the polished surface. Before me lay my weapons, cold and ready.

My eyes were fixed on one the men who tortured her before her death.

"Don, please, have mercy," he begged, his voice shaky with desperation.

His bloodshot eyes were wide, tears streaming down his face. I didn't see remorse, only fear.

"Did you have mercy on her eight years ago?" I snapped back, my voice low and trembling with anger.

"When she was begging you to let her go, did you show her any mercy?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could utter another word, Russo buried a knife in his hand.

The man screamed, a sound so pathetic that it only heightened my fury.

Every anguished cry ignited the fiery torment I had harbored for nearly a decade when I watched them torture her.

As I stared into his eyes, my irritation only grew. I struggled to hold in my emotions. I didn't want him to have a quick death.

No, I wanted him to suffer for every tear he had caused, every ounce of pain he had inflicted.

He would not only pay for his sins but also bear the weight of Fransisco's actions, the puppet master who pulled the strings.

Francisco is so lucky Claudia killed him before I found out he was the one responsible for her death, else I'd have made sure he suffered a worse fate than what he made her go through.

I kicked his limp body, rage, a molten furnace within me. The pain I inflicted didn't erase the gaping hole in my soul.

Her innocent smile flashed in my mind, her laughter a haunting echo that refused to fade. I wouldn't find peace until I had avenged her; I had sworn this oath to myself, and I intended to keep it.

Russo's hand rested on my arm, pulling me back from the abyss of my fury.

"You have to go now, I'll handle it. Your brother is on his way."

I wanted to stay, to continue the punishment, but a vision of amber eyes, a vision of my gem flashed through my mind.

We were supposed to have a photo shoot today until I got the news that Daniel, one of the vile molesters responsible for her death, was alive and had been found.

They were seven of them, five successfully eliminated, leaving two at my mercy.

I wasn't going to kill DeMarco and Daniel so easily, as they were the prominent figure during her assault.

I tucked my guns away and left.

When I walked through the doors of my house, I prepared myself for another night of drowning my pain with alcohol. But this time was different.

Camila was waiting for me in the living room, pacing with a worried look etched on her face.

Her hair was gathered in a messy bun, the silhouette of her thighs peeking from beneath her shorts was a vision that aroused me.

"Camila." I called her name, and she spun around, relief flooding her eyes. She rushed towards me, her words cut short by the sight of my blood-stained clothes.

Damn it! I forgot to change. What was I going to tell her?

"What happened to you?" She whispered, concern lacing her voice.

"Gem, it's nothing, I'm fine." She glared at me, her expression unyielding.

"How can you tell me it's fine when you're covered in blood?" She scolded with a frown. I raised a brow, but she didn't back down.

"Drama queen, sweetheart. I just got into a fight." A sad, worried sigh escaped her lips, and she shook her head.

"That's not an excuse, Luciano. What if something had happened to you?"

The worry in her voice warmed the icy grip that had tightened around my heart.

"Cami..." I tried to explain, but she slapped my arm. It was so gentle, like a child's attempt to hit an adult, I barely felt it.

"Come on, you should get cleaned."

She wrapped her hand around my arm, leading me to the dining room. She placed a plate of food before me, a gesture that sent shockwaves through my system.

"You cooked for me?" She looked at me bewildered, as if her kind act was the most natural thing in the world. For her, maybe it was, but for me, it was a gesture I couldn't comprehend.

"Of course. It isn't a big deal, besides, I figured you had nothing before you left, and seeing you were exhausted, I thought you'd be hungry. So I did that."

I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and kiss her for this, for being so innocent, so perfect. Camila was a gem I wanted to keep forever.

But how could I, knowing that the truth about who I was, what I did, would shatter her world? Or the perfect illusion she already had of me.

I didn't want that.

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