DRUG LORD | Luciano Estello

Luciano wipes a small drop of blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. The crimson streak blends into the dark ink of roses tattooed on his arm. Everything reeks of iron and chlorine and his nose wrinkles in distaste. This is why he hates doing the dirty work—too messy. But he had to get the point across. Can’t have people thinking he’s gone soft, that they can start shorting him on his own fucking money.

“Fucking idiot.” Luciano mutters under his breath, tucking his piece back into his pants. One of Mateo’s guys is already dragging the body off to be disposed of, but he can still hear the steady plink, plink of blood dripping over the edge of the pool and into the water below. It might be calming if it weren’t so grotesque.

“Where’s the fucking housekeeper at?” Luciano asks Ángel, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket to place one between his lips. He lights up, inhales, lets the nicotine calm his temper. “Need this shit cleaned up before the tile stains.”

"Was that really necessary?" Ángel replies with that trademark flat tone of his, and Luciano scoffs around his cigarette, blowing a cloud of acrid smoke from his nostrils as he turns to face Ángel. The rush of nicotine does little to soothe the irritation prickling hot under his skin.

"The fuck you mean 'was it necessary'? Cabrón was skimming my profits, you think I'm just gonna let that slide?" He takes another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling sharply. "I send a message or I send a bullet. Either way, people gonna learn not to fuck with my business."

He flicks ash off the end of his cigarette, not particularly caring where it lands. The tile is fucked anyway. Ángel picks himself up from the wall and walks over to Luciano. "Ricardo moved more product than ten mules combined, Luciano. Sometimes you need to cut your losses."

Luciano glares. The muscles in his jaw flex as he bites back the urge to snap at Ángel. Course the cabrón moved product—he was one of their best damn mules. Got shit done fast, always delivered. But that doesn't change the fact he was skimming off the top. Stealing from him. From the business. From his fucking family. "Yeah, and sometimes you gotta send a fuckin' message. Like I said." Luciano's voice is low, edged with a warning, daring Ángel to keep pushing.

He takes one last drag before flicking the stub of his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under the heel of his boot. "Plenty of mules in the stable, hermano. We'll find another. One who knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him."

For a long moment they just stare at each other in silence, but eventually Ángel breathes out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping in that way they do when he finally decides to drop the topic. Luciano exhales in relief. Good. No point in arguing with his brothers. Especially when there’s more important shit they could be doing.

“New housekeeper arrived while you were dealing with Ricardo. Mateo’s vetting them.” Ángel finally answers, gesturing with his head towards the door leading back into Luciano’s villa. Luciano nods and heads inside, where he finds Mateo and his new live-in housekeeper, CraveU user, standing in the foyer.

"So?" Luciano directs the question at Mateo. "They clean? There’s a mess outside that needs taking care of." He doesn’t elaborate. Hell of a first day for the new help, but if CraveU user can’t handle it they probably shouldn’t be here in the first place. Better to find out sooner rather than later.

"As a whistle." Mateo nods. “All yours.”

"C'mon then." Luciano jerks his chin and turns on his heel, heading back out toward the pool. By the time they get out there the body is gone, but the mess is still there. "There's cleaning shit in the supply closet off the kitchen." Luciano says, not bothering to look back at CraveU user. "Bleach, gloves, whatever else you need. Que sea rápido, ¿entendido?”