CHAPTER 3
OBSESSION ~ DORMANI NOSTRA There’s a kind of silence that comes before a scream. I like that silence. It’s sacred, calming. Like a prayer offered in blood and fear. The boy tied to the chair across from me is shaking, not because of the cold. It’s not cold in here. It’s never cold in my rooms. Especially not in this one—the cellar beneath The Den, where light and God dare not enter. He’s already missing two fingernails, four toenails, and a few broken ribs. I took them slowly, precisely. One for each lie he told me. He cried when the first one came off. Screamed with the second. Now he’s sobbing. I kneel before him, tilting his chin up so he meets my eyes. He tries to look away, but I slap him. Not hard. Just enough to keep him awake for more to come. “You stole from me,” I say. Calm. Even. “You thought I wouldn’t notice.” “I—I didn’t, I swear—” he chokes out, breath reeking of desperation and cheap beer. He was one of the boys who had joined the family because they wanted to belong. I would turn them away but once you're in the family, you can never return. We bleed together. Death is the only escape. “You took my mark,” I continued. “My girls. My shipments. You let the Russians walk into my district.” I hated rats. More than anything. “No, no, I didn’t—I just—I was told it was safe—” I press the blade flat against his cheek, smiling slightly. “Ah. You were told. Like a good little dog.” He whimpers. “But dogs that bite the hand…” I press the tip against his skin now. “They get put down.” I don’t need to kill him. Yet. I don’t always kill the first time. Sometimes the fear is more useful than the corpse. Sometimes the pain tells a better story. I carve the tip of the blade slowly down his arm. Not deep. Just enough for him to remember me. Remember what it means to cross me. I was the Don for a reason. It wasn't because it was given to me by my father or because it was my inheritance. I had made a name for myself. The name The Dark was whispered among men. I love the fear, the adrenaline rush, and the power. It was enticing and calculative. His scream is sharp, high-pitched, and short-lived as I plunge the knife into his stomach and twist it. One of my men turns up the music upstairs to drown it out. When it’s done, I stand. Wipe my hands clean. The blood sinks into the black of my sleeves like it belongs there. I enjoy this. It keeps me sane. Maybe that's what makes it worse. Monsters feed on chaos. I am the chaos. Controlled. Precise. Unforgiving. “Clean him up,” I say. “Let him crawl back to the pigs he called brothers. Make sure they see the marks.” Two of my men drag the broken fool away. His sobs echo long after he’s gone. I step out of the basement into the blasting hall of my club, where the world pretends I’m nothing more than a man with too much money and not enough soul. There's been a lot going on in my City. A lot I needed to focus on. My men knew not to go against me. They call me Il Diavolo — the Devil. But in this world, fear is power, and power is law. I don’t just run a business; I run an empire. Italy bows at my feet — from the cobbled streets of Rome to the blood-soaked alleys of Naples. Half of Spain answers to me, too. Every deal, every bullet, every drop of blood spilled—mine. I don’t move without purpose. Each moment is calculated. The Bratva? The Pakhan himself drinks at my table. We’re not friends—we’re allies soaked in blood and greed. I don’t trust anyone, but I know who fears me. And that’s enough. My hands are stained, yes—but I wear the darkness like a second cloak. I love the power it pours, I love the blood. I built this life brick by brick, bone by bone. And anyone who thinks they can take it from me? Well… they disappear before they finish the thought. I pour myself a glass of scotch and lean back against the velvet of my chair. And I see her again. An image I'd promised myself to forget. That face. That mouth. That smile. One that distracts my thoughts and calms my nerves. Jasmine Vale. Innocent. Sweet. Clueless. ** I didn't mean to follow her. I didn't mean to send one of my men to tell me her everyday activity. I had always been a man of control, but I feel my control snapping away whenever I think of her. She was too innocent. Too much light right across my soul of darkness. It made me want to wrap her with my darkness and taunt her beautiful soul with my broken one. She made me want something I should never think of having and it was maddening. And right now I was on her couch, my hand on her ass as she tries to fight me. "Don't make this harder for yourself, Mia bambina. Take it and count." I rasped, landing another smack on her ass. I was sure her right cheek would be Crimson red right now. Her ass jiggles with every smack and she gasps. "I'm— going to ki...kill you." She pushed her ass up, giving me more advantage. I pushed my left hand between her stomach and my leg, keeping her ass up for my punishment. I landed another slap on her ass and pushed her up gently. She went slack in my arms, her eyes glaring daggers at me as she tried to sit up. She winced as her ass touches the couch and I smirk. "You asshole! You had no right... No right." She was heaving now. "Asshole? Clearly, the punishment didn't sink in. I'll have to go further." She drags herself off the couch, crawling to the other side of the room. I hissed, taking in the image before me. She was on all fours, crawling as she wiggled her ass in front of me. She was indeed innocent and she would be the death of me. "I'm not yours to punish and you're not my Dad or anyone to do that." "I can be your Daddy if you want. I'm not a biased man, Jasmine." I held her stare. "I...I can't go with you." She said once again, holding her ass as though it would fall off. I would gladly do that for her. I stood up. Straighten my coat and glare back. "Go into your room. Pack a bag unless you want me to put you over my knee once again and it wouldn't be only your ass that would be sore, Jasmine." She glared. But turned around and went into her room. TBCCHAPTER FOUR THE DARK~ JASMINE VALE I didn’t know where he was taking me.The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to go but had no choice.The man was a beast. The kind I had never wanted and never thought I'd come to know.I rubbed my ass on the soft lush leather of his expensive car.The car roared to life whenever he grabbed the steering hard or swerved to another lane. I sat rigid in the back seat, hands clenched in my lap. I kept my eyes on the blur outside the window, but it offered no comfort—just more darkness and distance from everything familiar.I felt sick.Not the kind of sick that a peppermint or deep breath could fix. This sickness sat in my belly like a weight, twisting with every turn of the wheel. Dread. That’s what it was. Cold, crawling dread.Dormani didn’t say a word. I didn't even want him to but each time I glanced at him, I'd recall how easy it was for him to take a life.I didn'
CHAPTER 3 OBSESSION ~DORMANI NOSTRAThere’s a kind of silence that comes before a scream.I like that silence.It’s sacred, calming.Like a prayer offered in blood and fear.The boy tied to the chair across from me is shaking, not because of the cold. It’s not cold in here. It’s never cold in my rooms. Especially not in this one—the cellar beneath The Den, where light and God dare not enter.He’s already missing two fingernails, four toenails, and a few broken ribs. I took them slowly, precisely. One for each lie he told me. He cried when the first one came off. Screamed with the second.Now he’s sobbing.I kneel before him, tilting his chin up so he meets my eyes. He tries to look away, but I slap him. Not hard. Just enough to keep him awake for more to come.“You stole from me,” I say. Calm. Even. “You thought I wouldn’t notice.”“I—I didn’t, I swear—” he chokes out, breath reeking of desperation and cheap beer.He was o
CHAPTER 2 HELL JASMINE VALE It's been two weeks since The Den. Two weeks of countless nightmares and looking over my shoulder. I wasn't overly cautious, but I realised a few days after The Den that I was being followed. At first it didn't feel like it, then after the first day, I felt the shadow that followed me home, I felt the stare of eyes I didn't know. It was becoming suffocating. I had a stalker. There was no evidence to take to the police. The district police were and would never be friends. I had watched in fury and fear as they tortured a boy of no less than seventeen for throwing stones at the Gimzi fountain that flowed in the middle part of the City at the Crescenta Valley. "Are you closing for the night, angel?" I stopped struggling with my keys and turned to stare at the drunken man. "Yes, I am. Thank you. You should head home too." I gave him a polite smile. "Or maybe you should stay here with me." He grinned. "I really can't. Maybe you should come in tom
CHAPTER 1 INTO THE LION'S DENJASMINE VALEThere are two kinds of mornings in my life: the quiet ones, where everything hums with sugar and peace, and the chaotic ones—where my apron’s on backward, I forget the oven timer, and I seriously contemplate crying into the batter. Today, thank the butter gods, is the former.It's just past Six in the evening. Customers were still coming in, taking orders, or getting a late-night coffee for the cold weather. Italy in the winter season is the best thing one could ever ask for. I yawned, hitting the oven and grabbing three eggs from the open craters I just got yesterday."Another dead body found on Dustin Bridge." Lola read from the News Kean newspaper that was dropped by Mr. Bennett, my favorite customer who likes to tell me stories about his days as a young Soldier."I wonder how a human would take another life without batting an eyelash. It's disturbing." "Of course, it is. Coming from