Chapter Thirteen – The Judas Hour
Every empire has a traitor.
But sometimes the knife comes from the hand you held closest.
And sometimes... you knew it was coming.
Three days since Broadway burned.
Three days since the city started whispering my name with fear again.
Not Luca the Exile.
Not the Forgotten Son.
Now they called me Romano.
And that name had weight again.
But weight drags you down.
And I was drowning in it.
We set the final strike in motion.
Mercy tracked Adriano's location to an abandoned courthouse on the East River—ironic, considering how much justice he'd slaughtered to get there.
Gio and the crews were armed, locked in, tight perimeter. We had one shot.
We met the night before.
Just Mercy and me.
She wore her scars like armor, lips cracked from too many cigarettes, voice low and hollow.
"You know he's going to expect you."
"I want him to."
She looked at me then, really looked.
"If I don't make it—"
"Don't." I stepped closer. "We walk out of this together. Or not at all."
She hesitated. Then handed me a photo.
A girl. Six, maybe seven.
"Her name's Lila. Mine."
My blood turned to ice.
"He knows?"
She nodded.
"He said if I ever turned on him again… he'd bury her alive."
I didn't say anything.
I just pulled her close and whispered, "Then we make sure he never touches her again."
But Mercy wasn't the only one with secrets.
The betrayal came at 3:14 a.m.
Inside the courthouse, Gio's men turned.
One after the other.
Clean shots.
Three of my guards dead in under ten seconds.
A knife to my throat.
"Don't take it personal, Luca," Giovanni whispered.
"You?" I said through clenched teeth.
"You really thought you could erase your father's legacy and still sit on his throne?"
I headbutted him, hard.
Spun.
Gun out.
Mercy burst through the side entrance, blood on her hands, breathing like a hunted animal.
We fought like wolves.
Not for survival.
For vengeance.
For what was left of our souls.
When the smoke cleared, Giovanni bled out on the courtroom steps.
His final words?
"You don't kill the king, Luca… you become him."
That night I didn't sleep.
That night I buried my brother's right hand.
And I knew—Adriano was next.