[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 292: The Lorenzos

CASSIAN

Julian paused. He seed to be weighing his words, deciding how much of the truth I could handle.

"He works for a family. The Lorenzo family. They run the whole city we’re heading to. They run most of the towns around it, too."

I processed that. I wasn’t a fool. I knew what those kinds of families did. "He’s in the mafia."

"He’s a lieutenant," Julian corrected. "He’s been sending money when he can. Small amounts. And letters. He says there’s work for if I want it. Real work."

"And you want it."

Julian turned away from the window and looked at . His face wasn’t uncertain, but it wasn’t fully settled either.

He looked like a man who had weighed a heavy burden, found he could carry it, and was now just waiting for the weight to hit his shoulders.

"I want to build sothing, Cassian," he said. It was the simplest thing he had ever told .

"I want sothing that is mine. I don’t want to spend my life carrying bags for rich n who don’t know my na. I’m tired of being invisible."

He stopped for a beat. A small, dark smile touched his lips. It was a self-aware look.

"I want to be the man soone else carries bags for," he said. "Even if I have to do so ugly things to get there. I’d rather be a monster than a ghost."

I looked at him. I saw the honesty in it. Julian never dressed things up. He didn’t use big words to hide the truth. He couldn’t afford to.

"Okay," I said.

Julian blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay," I repeated. I reached out and took the piece of stolen chocolate. I ate it. It was sweet and bitter at the sa ti.

The bus kept moving. We were heading toward a city owned by a family nad Lorenzo.

We were heading toward a life of ugly things. But for the first ti, I wasn’t afraid. I was with Julian, and the road was open, and the journey was just beginning.

I watched the gray world go by and wondered what waking up ant. But the bus didn’t stop, and the air stayed cold, and the weight of Julian’s shoulder against mine was the only thing that felt real.

...

The new city was not like the old one. The old city felt like a museum... quiet, heavy, and full of things you weren’t allowed to touch.

This city was alive. It had a rhythm that never stopped. It was loud, it was dirty, and it belonged to itself. Every street corner had a different sound, and the air slled like roasting coffee, wet pavent, and old stone.

Julian had a piece of paper in his pocket. It was a small scrap, folded and unfolded so many tis that the white lines of the creases were starting to tear.

On it was an address. We walked until we found the building. It wasn’t impressive. It was just a door in a row of doors.

We found the man there. He was older, but I could see Julian in his face. It was in the eyes and the way he held his shoulders.

He moved with the kind of economy you only learn when you realize that unnecessary motion is a waste of ti and life.

His na was Dante. It was a short na for a man who seed to take up so much space without trying.

Dante looked at Julian. Sothing moved in his face... a flicker of sothing soft... but he killed it almost instantly. "You actually ca," he said. His voice was like gravel.

"I told you I would," Julian replied. He stood tall.

Dante’s eyes slid over to . He didn’t just look at ; he assessed . He looked at my boots, my hands, and the way I was standing. "And this one?"

"He’s with ," Julian said.

Dante didn’t look impressed. "That’s not an answer."

I t his gaze. I was used to n like him.. n who thought they could see through you. "Cassian," I said. I didn’t blink. "I go where he goes."

Dante let the silence sit between us for a long mont. Then he gave a short, sharp nod. "Alright. Co on."

I expected the Lorenzo operation to be chaos.

I expected shouting and guns and people running in every direction. What I found instead was order.

It was a specific kind of order... the kind you find in a large company that has been running for a hundred years. They had protocols.

They had hierarchies. Everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to do.

We were taken to a room. A man nad Mikey was there.. the underboss. He looked at us for a mont before the Don himself entered.

When the Don walked in, the room adjusted. No one said a word, but the air changed.

He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t young either. He had the face of a man who had seen everything and had forgotten most of it because it wasn’t worth rembering.

His eyes were sharp. They were the kind of eyes that read a person in the ti it takes to shake a hand.

Dante and Julian bowed. It was automatic. They knew the protocol. They knew their place in the order of things.

I didn’t bow. I just stood there and looked at him. No one had ever told I had to bow to anyone, and I didn’t do things just because everyone else was doing them.

"Cassian," Julian hissed. I felt his elbow dig sharply into my ribs. I didn’t move.

The Don—Marceli Lorenzo—looked at .

The silence in the room was heavy. I thought he might be angry. Instead, he laughed.

It was a genuine laugh, short and dry. It was the laugh of a man who didn’t find much funny, so when he did, he ant it.

"Leave him," the Don said to the room. Then he looked at . "First ti eting soone like ?"

"First ti soone expected to bow," I said. My voice was flat.

The Don looked at longer this ti. He was taking his ti. "How old are you?"

"Twenty," I told him.

"Hmm." He smiled, but it was a thin, dangerous thing. "I like fire in young n. Either it builds sothing, or it burns everything down. I find out which before I decide what to do with it."