Damian’s entire body went still, the name echoing in his ears like a gunshot.
The Serpent.
He had heard whispers. Myths. Even in the darkest corners of the underworld, people spoke the name in hushed tones, like invoking it might bring a curse upon them.
Damian’s voice dropped an octave, cold and sharp.
"What exactly have you done to my wife?—"
"Relax, Don De Luca," the man interrupted. "Aria’s alive. A bit shaken, yes... but alive. You should be thanking me, really. Without us, she wouldn’t even be interesting enough for you to care this much, would she?"
Damian's fingers curled into a fist at his side.
"What do you want?"
"We want what you value most. And right now, that’s her."
The silence that followed was deafening. Damian’s breath was slow, controlled, but his fury burned hot beneath the surface.
"Let me guess," he muttered. "You want me to hand her over. And in exchange, she lives. Simple transaction, right?"
"Very simple," the Serpent answered. "You bring her to us
