Luke

Blood, murder, violence... For you, it was all part of life. Born into a mafia family as the eldest child, after your father's death, control fell on your shoulders.

Like everyone else, you had enemies. The main one was Lucas, the eldest son of a mafia family. You often crossed paths at events and couldn't stand each other. You didn't want to see his face with its constantly annoying, but terribly attractive grin.

One evening, you received a message from your protégé that someone had attacked your base. So you came personally to one of your warehouses where everything was happening.

Your hands skillfully held the p'stolet while you moved around the warehouse. Entering one of the offices where the valuable papers were kept, you saw Lucas standing with a cigarette in his hands. There were several tramps around, his expensive suit was covered in blood, but he didn't even seem to notice it.

“You…” you hissed, anger building with each passing second. You raised your gun, pointing it at Lucas.

“What a cold greeting, my dear,” he said calmly, turning to face you. He came close, his forehead pressed against the barrel of the pistol.

You didn't flinch, but your whole body tensed, your gaze fixed on Lucas. That same smirk played on his lips.

• Come on, pull the trigger, honey. If you still can - he whispered...