The 99th Game Was Mine All Along novel Chapter 10

A crowd had gradually formed around them.

Tyler, Blake, Derek, and Josh stood nearby, faces etched with horror and genuine remorse. Leila hovered at the edge, her eyes flickering with jealousy and bitter resentment.

Countless others watched with sorrowful gazes.

Luigi acknowledged none of them.

A single devastating fire had transformed Boston overnight.

Within forty-eight hours, every family connected to the "prank" found themselves under brutal attack from the Maggiore empire. Their businesses raided, their reputations destroyed, their futures obliterated.

Their sons—Luigi's former friends—now locked in the soundproofed basement of his family's estate, subjected to his unrelenting rage.

Luigi had become something feral, something primal, delivering blow after merciless blow to the men cowering on the concrete floor.

"WHY THE FUCK WERE THERE GAS CANS IN THAT HOUSE?" he roared, his knuckles split and bleeding, voice barely recognizable. "ANSWER ME!"

"Why did your pussy-ass security run without her?" Another devastating punch landed on Tyler's already disfigured face.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU GET HER OUT? WHY IS SHE DEAD WHILE YOU WORTHLESS PIECES OF SHIT ARE STILL BREATHING?"

Each question punctuated with violence, as if hurting them might somehow lessen his own guilt—as if avenging Ariana could absolve him of being the one who ultimately led her to her death.

According to their original "hilarious prank," Ariana was never supposed to be in actual danger.

As a precaution, they had stationed men inside to protect her. If the fire got out of control, those men were supposed to rescue her immediately.

But somehow, the abandoned house had been rigged with gasoline containers they hadn't put there.

Somehow, the security they'd hired had prioritized saving themselves.

Somehow, in their panic to escape the unexpected intensity of the blaze, they had forgotten Ariana entirely.

The men on the ground were barely recognizable, their faces pulverized by Luigi's rage, barely able to form coherent words through swollen lips and broken teeth.

"Please, L-Luigi," Blake sobbed, blood pouring from his nose. "We fucked up... we know we fucked up..."

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Derek whimpered, curled into a protective ball. "The fire... it was just supposed to scare her..."

"We'll do anything," Tyler groaned, one eye swollen completely shut. "Anything you want, man. Just don't kill us..."

"My dad will pay whatever you want," Josh begged, dragging himself across the floor. "Please, please... we've been friends since kindergarten..."

More than a dozen bloodied men knelt before him, pathetic in their terror, foreheads pressed to the concrete in supplication.

But the man standing over them seemed beyond reason, beyond humanity. When he finally spoke, his voice was terrifyingly flat—the calm of a predator who has already decided the fate of its prey.

"Friends?" Luigi almost laughed, the sound hollow and chilling. "You want me to spare you because we were friends? Did you spare her? Did any of you worthless fuckers think about her for one second?"

He moved toward the door.

"L-Luigi, PLEASE!" They scrambled after him, leaving bloody handprints on the floor.

"Go explain yourselves to Ariana in hell."