The Bitter Truth

Chapter 27 ~ Lack Of Empathy

As Jaime took in the bloodbath of her uncle's dining room, she gasped. It was something she was used to—her uncle's brutality that was—but no less horrific.

Luca was merciless and feared by many. He was discreetly the ruthless head of one of the most prominent Endepurean gangs, and his prestigious position as commissioner made him even more dangerous.

The man was invincible.

And he was all Jaime had.

Jaime recognized after the fact why Luca had shattered the brains of Tristan's partner in such a manner: he saw the man had touched her.

Luca's brutality was heightened when confronted with disrespect. And openly touching his niece in his own home mere feet away from him was the epitome of disrespect.

"Maria!" Luca's thunderous growl rang out, the result of his housekeeper not restoring his dining room to order for a moment too long then he was willing to tolerate.

"Sí, claro. I sorry, sir," she whimpered, brushing her nerves away on her dress. She freed herself from Jaime's protective grasp, and her small frame waddled toward a brass bell on the wall. Trembling, she pulled the small rope that dangled from it. The sound chimed out, piercing through the grand home, signaling that work was to be done and that Luca's expectations needed to be met without delay.

"Sit down, Jaime," Luca ordered, still eating at the table stained and marred in blood as servants piled into the dining to clean up the massacre.

Her legs shook slightly as she obeyed and walked back to her chair without a word. He had proved all morning he was not in a mood to test his patience.

As her chair screeched back into place at the table, he commanded, "You too, Mike."

The buff man set his weapon down on the table with a clang, then sat in the chair, his eyes steely on Luca.

"Maria!" Luca called out again after taking a large gulp of his bitter coffee. Each syllable carried a tone of authority and impatience, creating a tense atmosphere. It was as though even the fine china and ornate chandeliers were on edge, preparing for what would happen next.

Without a moment to waste, Maria hurried to his side with her head slightly bowed, afraid to make eye contact. "¿Sí, señor?"

"Fetch Mike a plate," he ordered while stuffing a bite of food into his mouth.

Jaime watched her as she dashed back to the kitchen at his request. The sound of her feet pattering against the floor mixed with the clattering of dishes being gathered.

"Thirty percent was way too much," Luca suddenly snapped, his voice drawing Jaime's attention.

"What, Uncle?" she asked, confusion creeping into her voice as she glanced back at him.

He finally lifted his eyes from his plate, his fork waving in mid-air, a piece of bacon and a bit of egg dangling from the tines.

"Thirty percent was too much," he repeated darkly.

Jaime swallowed hard, a knot forming in her stomach, and looked down at the floor, her heart pounding.

"Is that why you shot them?" she ventured quietly, her voice barely audible as she attempted to mask her fear.

"Speak up when talking to me," he admonished.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to repeat the question with a bit more volume, "Is that why you killed them? They wanted too much?"