Page 32 of Bound in Vengeance
It’s been hours.
Hours since I caught Sienna spying on me at the mall. Hours since I’ve been hiding away in my office, sniffing her damp panties like a fucking addict desperate for his next hit of crack. I’m such an idiot. A depraved, unhinged bastard.
But what the hell am I supposed to do? I crave it.
Now, it’s like her specific, intoxicating smell is permanently engraved in my brain, driving me mad from the inside out.
I stop my assault on the bag, catching it with both forearms as it swings back toward me. I lean my forehead against the cold leather, my chest heaving as I curse myself. Why didn’t I just taste her right there on those godforsaken stairs?
Why didn't I just take what was mine and eat her out until she screamed? Maybe it would have assuaged some of this relentless hunger. Maybe it would have taken the edge off.
God. I’ve never panted for a woman so desperately in my life. It’s sickening. It’s like I need her more than I need air.
"Fuck," I growl into the empty room.
I look around my sanctuary, but even the familiar, spartan surroundings offer no distraction tonight.
My home gym is an expansive, brutalist concrete bunker built into the basement of my estate, lit only by harsh, cold LED strips embedded in the ceiling.
It’s packed with state-of-the-art weights, heavy iron chains, and high-end training gear. It’s a place meant for pure, unadulterated focus. Usually, the scent of rubber, old iron, and hard labor is enough to clear my head.
This evening, it just feels like a cage.
I tear my gaze away from the mirror, unable to look at the sheer desperation written across my own face, and launch myself back into motion. I continue boxing, throwing a vicious combination of hooks and jabs, feeling my muscles scream in protest under the strain. Good. I want the pain. I need the exhaustion to drown her out.
I hear the heavy thud of footsteps echoing down the concrete corridor, but I don’t stop. I don’t even turn my head.
It’s Valerio. He’s the only one who has the authority to walk into this gym when I’m using it. Everyone else in my security detail knows better; this is the one place I demand absolute solitude. No exceptions. No matter what.
Valerio appears in my peripheral vision, stepping onto the rubber mats. His expression is grim, stripped of its usual casual ease.
“Alessandro, we have news.”
Something about the way he says it makes my fists freeze against the leather. I lower my arms, panting heavily, my chest heavingas I glare at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but I lift a single finger, cutting him off. I need a second to pull the monster back under the surface.
I peel the sweaty boxing wraps off my hands, letting them drop to the floor. I grab my silver water bottle from the bench, cracking the cap and chugging the ice-cold liquid down my throat. The burn in my chest slowly begins to settle. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and give him a sharp nod.
"Talk," I rumble.
Valerio takes a step closer, crossing his arms. “The weapons shipment coming through the eastern docks, it’s gone. Two hours ago, a customs team that wasn't on our payroll intercepted the containers before our guys could even clear the perimeter. But they didn’t seize them, Alessandro. The moment the doors were broken open, a fire broke out. The entire yard went up. The crates, the manifests, the trucks, everything was reduced to ash within minutes.”
He pauses, his jaw tightening. “Our inside guy at the port said the team had precise coordinates. They knew exactly which warehouse to target and which seals to look for. It wasn’t a random inspection. It was a targeted execution. We both know who holds the keys to those customs routes and who has the authority to leak those exact manifest numbers.”
He looks me dead in the eye, his voice dropping an octave. “The financial loss itself is heavy, but it's not the worst part. The real damage is political. A hit like this makes us look compromised.It makes you look weak, exposed, and utterly laughable in front of the elders.”
My jaw tightens, a blinding surge of fury replacing the exhaustion in my muscles. I know exactly how true his words are.
We have four sitting elders in the Gallo organization: Vittorio Moretti, Salvatore de Luca, Nino Romano, and Enzo Bellandi.
These old bastards helped build this bloody empire from the ground up alongside my grandfather. They guided my father when he took the reins, and they were standing right there when my brother, Matteo, took over.
Now that Matteo is dead, they fully expected Luca to step into the vacancy. It made sense to their traditionalist minds; Luca has been a pillar of this family since my father was breathing. He was running crews before Matteo was even handed the title of Don.
And where was I? I was thousands of miles away in Italy, exiled by a father who didn’t give two fucks about my existence.
Now I’m back, sitting in a seat they think belongs to someone else. The elders don’t believe I have the stomach, the power, or the experience to rule a city like this.
They haven’t had the balls to say it to my face yet, but I’m not blind, I know their loyalties lie with Luca. If I let Luca continueto chip away at my authority like this, it’s only a matter of time before the elders find their voice, step across the line, and demand my removal.
