Page 60 of Shadows of Steel

I pull my gun, the weight familiar in my grip. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, the tension wrapping itself around the man strapped to the chair like a noose.

And then I fire.

The first shot tears through his leg. A strangled scream rips from his throat, reverberating off the cold stone walls. I take my time. Let the pain settle in. Let the fear sink its claws deep.

Then I fire again.

Another shot. Another scream.

The sound is almost musical.

I watch, emotionless, as blood pools beneath the chair. His face twists in agony, his breathing ragged as he tries to suppress his cries. I step forward, lowering my gun. My voice remains calm and unaffected.

“You allowed your gaze to wander where it had no right to linger. You spoke to her with blatant disrespect,” I say evenly. “Entertaining thoughts expressly forbidden.” A strangled groan escapes him, it’s the sole response he’s capable of offering.

Good.

I sweep my gaze over my men, letting the weight of my words settle like a blade at their throats.

“Let this be a lesson to every one of you, no one goes near my wife. If you see her, you turn the fuck around. You don’t speak to her. You don’t so much as breathe in her direction. The only thing you do is ensure her safety, even if it costs you your life.”

Silence grips the room, thick and suffocating.

Then Mario’s voice cuts through it, sharp and commanding. “Your Capo has spoken!” His roar reverberates off the stone walls.

A chorus of voices follows, swift and absolute. “Sì, Don Salvatore.”

I turn back to the man in the chair, taking in the sight of him. His head hangs forward, blood pooling beneath him, but I don’t spare him another word.

Not worth it.

My gaze lifts to Mario instead, a single nod. “You know what to do. Make sure I don’t see his face ever again.”

Mario smirks, as he steps forward. “With pleasure, Capo.”

I don’t wait.

Without another word, I turn and leave, my boots striking against the stone floor, each step echoing as I ascend the stairs. The rage still burns beneath my skin, simmering, unspent. My wife is making me do things I never intended. But sentiment has no place in power. I am a ruler. A man who commands absolute control.

If my own men believe they can cross me without consequence, then my enemies will see weakness. And weakness is an invitation. A death sentence.

Discipline isn’t just a necessity, it’s the foundation of my rule. A kingdom without fear breeds rebellion, and I will not give anyone the illusion that I can be tested.

Not my men. Not my enemies. Not even her.

This marriage was never part of my plans. Never meant to be anything more than a strategic move.

And yet, here I am, spilling blood in her name. Losing sleep over a woman who should mean nothing. Letting thoughts of her consume me at all fucking hours of the day. And if it comes to that, killing for her, without hesitation or doubt.

I reach my office, intent on burying myself in work, but before I can step inside, my phone vibrates in my pocket. A deep frown settles on my brow as I pull out the phone. My wife’s name glows against the screen.

She never calls. The realization sends a sharp current through me, something dark and urgent stirring beneath the surface.

Swiftly, I answer. “Harlow—”

But the voice that greets me isn’t hers.

It’s Mattia. “Dad, something’s wrong. We need you here.”