Bloodlines and Bullets

twenty-eight

- Luciano's POV -

Chastity nods, that playful gleam still in her eyes as she slips off the bed, completely unbothered by my detachment. As she moves toward the bathroom to brush her teeth, I watch her disappear behind the door. When she returns, she disappears beneath the covers with a playful glance back at me. I rise and head to the bathroom to clean up, the coldness of the tiles underfoot a sharp contrast to the heat that lingers from our encounter.

The water from the shower beats down on me, washing away the physical remnants of what just transpired, but it does nothing to cleanse the thoughts that swirl in my mind. Thalia. She's lodged in there like a splinter, something I can't quite dig out. The water cascades over my shoulders, as if trying to drown out the irritation, the bitter taste of her name in my mouth.

I step out of the shower, toweling off with practiced efficiency. My reflection stares back at me in the mirror, eyes hard, cold - void of anything that could be mistaken for weakness. The steely resolve that has become my constant companion is there, etched into every line of my face. I am a dangerous man in a world that demands danger, a predator among prey. And I will stop at nothing to get what I want, what I'm owed. I brush my teeth and when I'm done I walk back into the bedroom, sliding into bed beside Chastity.

Her body is a warm presence next to mine, but it offers little solace. Her breathing is slow, steady, as sleep begins to take her. I lie there, eyes open, staring into the darkness that fills the room, and yet I'm not here. My mind drifts, haunted by the specter of a woman I barely know but can't seem to forget. Thalia. She's more than a means to an end now, and that makes her dangerous. But it's not fear that keeps me awake - it's the challenge. The promise of control. She'll learn, just like everyone else, that no one escapes my grasp. For tonight, I surrender to the restless tide of sleep, but I know it won't be peaceful.

My dreams will be filled with shadows, and among them, her face will emerge, a reminder of the unfinished business that pulls me deeper into a game where only one of us will come out on top.

I wake to the dim light filtering through the curtains, the morning still shrouded in that early, quiet haze. My mind is clouded, thick with the remnants of dreams that refuse to fully fade. I push myself up with a sigh, muscles tensed from the restlessness that sleep never seems to cure, and reach for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lights up, the digital clock reading 8 am sharp. Several notifications blink at me, my men reporting that there's been no movement from Arrio's apartment throughout the night. The status quo remains, but it grates on me. Every hour wasted feels like sand slipping through my fingers.

I fight the urge to call Oliver. He knows better than to keep me waiting if there's anything to report. No, I need to keep my mind sharp, my focus unwavering. I rise from the bed, the sheets sliding off me as I stand. I notice Chastity stirring beside me, her eyes fluttering open as she reaches out to me, her touch seeking some connection, some comfort. Her fingers barely brush against my arm before I shove her hand away with a sharp, dismissive gesture.

My voice is cold, clipped. "Get dressed," I command, not bothering to soften my tone. "I have work to do."

She blinks, confusion clouding her features for a fleeting moment before she sees the resolve in my eyes. Silently, she slips out of bed, reaching for her discarded clothes, pulling them on with the practiced ease of someone who's accustomed to mornings like this.

"You can either go to your motel room, or I'll have you brought back to the jet," I tell her as I start to dress myself, my movements brisk, efficient.

She hesitates, eyes searching mine, perhaps looking for something - anything - resembling warmth or affection. She finds nothing. "I'll head back to the jet," she murmurs, her voice subdued.