13. Hell hath no fury!

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LUCIANO


A stab of hurt cut through my veins. Instantly, tears welled up in my eyes, but I closed them shut to suppress my tumultuous nerves.  Although, I expected something like this to happen eventually. Yet, at some point, I decided to cling to the ray of hope I  had left. I hoped she could fight it and come out victorious.

Visiting my mother every month, my heart usually clench in pain whenever I saw her. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. Painfully,  she couldn't hear whatever I had to say.

Why now?

For seven freaking years, my mother slipped into a vegetative state. After we lost my sister, father, house, and everything we owned ten years ago, she had never been the same again.

Unluckily for her, she traveled from Italy to China just to purchase some products for her company. Only to hear of the unfortunate attack, the next day.

Because of that terrible news, she slumped. And that was how my uncle had to help her get admitted before his death. She had been on several medications, in and out of the hospital until she slipped into a coma three years later.

Out of fury, I balled my fist and collided them with the wall. Instantly, my knuckles cracked up but I didn't feel any pain. I had been numb from pain for several years. My chest rose and fell in seething rage. I didn't know who to unleash my anger on, because of my mother's death. The rival group that planned the attack on us, ten years ago had been killed one after the other except for my nemesis, Ramos.

And one day, Ramos Ashton would meet his demise too.

A trickle of blood seeped out of my torn knuckles, but I paid no attention to that. Seeing blood invigorates me and I relish the sight of it.

Perhaps, I could see some more. I said to myself as an ingenious thought ran across my mind. So without further ado, I strutted into my room and opened the closet.

The scenery of guns brought up something that strengthened my resolve and a small crooked smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. Damn! I love hunting!

So I picked up a pistol, a revolver, and a shotgun. Afterward, I closed the door shut and found my way out of the mansion.

The moment I opened the front door, Romano bumped into me on his way in, “I am so sorry, Boss.” He took two steps backward then his eyes fell on the guns in my hand.

“Move.”

Romano's eyes searched mine. “What is wrong, Luciano?”

I hardened my jaw to conceal my agony. “They just called from the hospital in Italy. My mom died this morning.” I informed him.

“Oh my goodness!” Romano gasped in shock. “I am so sorry. Are you okay? Should I get you some water?”

“There is no need for that.” Came my short flaccid response.

“Please accept my condolences, Boss. I wish I can give you all the comfort.” He stated with a tone of sympathy.

“It's fine. Although I was hoping she would survive this, I also had in mind that something like this could happen.”

His eyes drifted to the guns in my hand once more. “Boss, what do you want to use them for?” He gestured at my hand and my lips curved into a crooked smile.

“For hunting,” I replied sharply.

“Hunt?” Romano's brows furrowed in confusion. “But you do not hunt except if— oh!” I guess he trailed off the moment he realized what I was referring to.

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