He’d come too far, had taken too many risks to stop now. He raised his weapon, leveling it at Roy, and every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to fire.
Roy’s smile only widened. “Go ahead, Leo. Shoot. Let’s see who survives.”
Before Leo could pull the trigger, a blinding explosion tore through the room. 
Fire and debris erupted in all directions, the force throwing him backward as the shockwave shattered every window, collapsing part of the ceiling. 
The world spun, lights flashing and smoke filling his lungs as he struggled to get up, disoriented.
When the dust settled, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. 
The room was in ruins, charred and broken. His eyes searched desperately through the rubble, heart pounding.
“Dad!” he shouted, coughing against the acrid smoke, stumbling over debris as he fought his way to the center of the room.
He found him—his father’s body, slumped against the remnants of the chair, lifeless. 
Leo dropped to his knees, the weight of realization crashing down over him. 
His father’s face was frozen in an expression of peace, as if he’d known this would be the end.
Behind him, he could hear his men moving, their voices distant, concerned, but he couldn’t focus on anything else. 
He gripped his father’s hand, feeling the warmth slipping away, and his own fury began to rise, a steady, relentless burn.
Hours later, when they finally managed to pull him out of the ruins, Roy was nowhere to be found, vanished into the night. 
But Leo knew he was still out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike again.
From that day forward, Leo’s resolve hardened. 
He tightened the security around his family, built a network of loyal men, prepared for any threat. He’d failed to protect his father, but he swore he’d never let his guard down again.
…
…
…
Back in the present, Leo’s fists clenched, a mixture of rage and regret swirling inside him.
The memory gnawed at him, a reminder that his choices had led his father into that room, that everything he’d built had come at a price he hadn’t been willing to pay.
He straightened, jaw clenched, shoving the memory down. 
After emptying his gun into every wall of his study, venting the fury that had been simmering beneath his calm exterior, Leo still felt the restlessness, the hollow ache gnawing at him. The echoes of gunshots faded, leaving only silence in the room littered with broken wood and plaster.
But he wasn’t done yet. The anger, the need to escape, wouldn’t let him rest.
Later that night, he found himself at an upscale nightclub. The pulsing beat of the music drowned out his thoughts, and the dim lights cast shadows across the crowd, making it easy to lose himself in the chaos. Leo ordered drink after drink, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction as it coursed through his veins.
Around him, women circled, drawn by his air of mystery and intensity, their voices a blur in his ears. One draped her arm over his shoulder, laughing, her hand tracing the line of his jaw. Another leaned in close, whispering something he didn’t catch, her perfume sweet and heavy. Leo barely reacted, his gaze unfocused, lost in memories and regrets.
He lifted his glass again, the edges of his vision beginning to blur. For a moment, the music, the laughter, the lights—they all faded away, replaced by the image of his father, bound and beaten, the final moments replaying like a curse he couldn’t escape.
As he set the glass down, his hand trembled slightly, a rare crack in his carefully crafted armor.
As Leo sat in the darkened booth, his glass empty and eyes fixed somewhere beyond the crowded dance floor, a woman in a sleek black dress slid into the seat next to him. She rested a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close.
“You look like someone with a lot on his mind,” she murmured, her voice low and inviting.
Leo glanced at her, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Not looking for company,” he replied, his tone flat.
She laughed softly, unfazed. “Everyone’s looking for something, even if they won’t admit it.” She leaned closer, her perfume thick in the air. “Maybe I can help you forget.”
Another woman approached from the side, placing a fresh drink in front of him. “This one’s on me,” she said, her smile alluring. “Consider it a… remedy.”
Leo raised the glass to his lips, taking a long drink. “Remedy, huh?” he muttered. The bitterness of the alcohol felt like a small punishment, but nowhere near enough.
The first woman’s hand drifted to his arm, tracing small circles. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who runs from his troubles,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his.
Leo scoffed, a hollow sound. “You’d be surprised.” He downed the rest of his drink and let the empty glass hit the table with a dull thud.
Another figure slid into the booth—this time, one of his men. His face was tense, and he leaned down to Leo’s ear. “Sir, it’s not safe here. We should go.”
Leo’s jaw tightened, and he waved the man off. “I’m not in the mood for safety,” he said sharply. “Go.”
The man hesitated but finally nodded, disappearing back into the crowd.
The second woman leaned into his ear. “Sounds like you’re a man of importance.”
Leo barely looked at her. “Importance doesn’t make you immune to mistakes,” he murmured, half to himself. His thoughts flickered to his father, his own failure, and his promise to protect what little family he had left.
The first woman tilted her head, studying him. “Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “If I’m hard on myself, it’s because I know the cost of being anything less.” He looked at her, finally, his gaze intense. “Enjoy the night. It’s all yours.”
Leo stormed toward the exit, each step heavy with frustration, until suddenly, a loud clatter echoed through the club. 
He felt the wet splash as a tray of drinks tumbled onto him, soaking his shirt and dripping down his arms.
The waiter, young and wide-eyed, stumbled back, stammering, “I… I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see you—”
Leo’s jaw clenched, and in an instant, his anger exploded. He lunged forward, grabbing the waiter by the collar. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?” he snarled, his voice low and cold.