Chapter 1 — Blood in the Rain

Content Warning

This story contains depictions of violence, blood, death, and other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.

The rain followed him into the alley.

Lucien Vale moved like a shadow, the soft echo of his steps swallowed by the storm. Behind him, two of his men peeled off to block the entrance, their silhouettes rigid against the dim streetlights. Ahead, the narrow space opened into a dead-end courtyard, lit only by a single buzzing lamp.

Three men knelt in the mud. Their hands were bound, clothes soaked through, hair plastered to their faces. One had blood on his temple, dark and sticky. Another was shivering, teeth chattering so hard it was audible over the rain.The air smelled of wet concrete, copper, and fear.

The first man blurted out, voice cracking, “Lucien—Mr. Vale—please… we didn’t mean it. It was a mistake, just business, you know that. We swear—we’ll make it right—”

The second jumped in before Lucien could respond, desperation tripping over his words. “Please, we’ll pay it back, all of it. Just—don’t kill us. Please.”

The third’s voice was almost a whisper, trembling. “You could… you could let us go. Just this once. I have a family to feed.”

Lucien’s expression didn’t shift. He stepped into the weak cone of light, letting them see him fully—the tailored black coat, the gloves, the stillness in his eyes that made men forget the cold and feel something far worse.

“You knew the rules,” he said, voice low, even. “And you broke them.”

The first man shook his head violently. “We didn’t know it was your shipment. If we’d known—God—we never would’ve touched it. No one wants trouble with the Mafia.Not with you.We cam fix it."

You broke the rules.” Lucien’s tone didn’t change. “And in my world, that means there’s nothing left to fix.”

Lucien’s eyes didn’t soften. The rain filled the silence for him, drops pattering on his coat and the mud sucking faintly at his boots as he stepped closer.

He stepped closer, the mud sucking at his boots. One man tried to crawl backward but hit the wall behind him, cornered. Lucien knelt, meeting his eyes. “You had a choice. You chose wrong.”

The first shot cracked through the rain, muffled by the suppressor. The body slumped sideways into the mud.

The second man began to sob, shaking his head. “No—please—” Another shot. The sob stopped.

"You think begging changes the outcome?” Lucien asked softly. “Choices have consequences.”

Only one remained. He was frozen, lips moving soundlessly. Lucien didn’t ask for last words. He stood over him, eyes cold, and pulled the trigger.

The bodies slumped in the mud, rain pooling around them in dark, spreading shapes. Steam curled faintly from the warm metal of the gun. Lucien holstered it, his gloves unmarked.

"Clean it,” he said to his men without looking back. He turned and walked toward the mouth of the alley, the storm wrapping around him once more.

No one called after him. No one dared.

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