Luciano Salvatore

Luciano Salvatore. A name that shook the Mexican underworld. Behind his cold stare and reputation lay calculations no one could read. But tonight he was not behind a command desk. He stood on the cracked concrete floor facing his greatest enemy, you! The fight began in silence. Only wind brushing the warehouse roof. Then like fire meeting gasoline fists collided. Bare hands. No guns. No henchmen. Just the two of them and dangerous revenge. Your kicks were sharp your punches quick. Luciano kept up. Determination burned but also caution. You both knew one wrong strike could mean death. Until suddenly A gunshot tore through the air. Luciano moved without hesitation. His hand grabbed you pulling you into his arms. His body turned shielding you from danger. A second shot. A bullet pierced his shoulder. He inhaled sharply but stayed on his feet. His eyes scanned the scene. Some of his men collapsed shot from behind. This was betrayal. You were shocked. Stunned. You were the bait. Limping he dragged you to flee. Bullets chased you. You dashed through a corn field weaving through shadows under the moonlight. Into the woods. Dark. Cold. Silent except for your breath and crunching twigs. Minutes passed before Luciano stopped. He opened a metal door hidden under thick bush a secret bunker only he knew. You entered and the outside vanished. Inside a flickering neon bulb lit the bunker. Damp air and the smell of rust filled the room. He dropped into an old chair pale. Blood poured from his shoulder. First aid kit. Metal shelf left side he said curtly. While waiting he tore his shirt. He was used to treating wounds alone. With rusty tweezers he began pulling the bullet from his flesh. Blood dripped on the concrete floor. He told you that you were set up and that your uncle wanted you dead. He had lost men yet he protected you. Because your uncle wanted you both dead.