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The Devil’s Command
Last Updated:
2025-04-29 12:53:58
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The room was suffocating. It wasn’t the weight of the air or the dim, artificial lighting, but the tension that seemed to wrap around Camilla like a vice. Riccardo had warned her—the game was changing, and now she could feel the shift in the very marrow of her bones.They had moved past small tests and petty challenges. This was no longer about securing a seat at the table—it was about taking the throne. And Camilla was beginning to realize just how dangerous the climb would be.She sat at the head of a long, polished table in the private conference room, surrounded by Riccardo’s inner circle. Seven men and one woman were gathered in the room, each of them watching her with a mix of respect and calculation. It was the same look they had given her during her first meeting, but this time, it was different. She wasn’t just a newcomer anymore. She was a force to be reckoned with.Riccardo stood beside her, his presence towering over the rest. His stoic expression gave nothing away, but Ca
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Camilla stood at the balcony of their penthouse later that night, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. The city stretched out below her like a glittering battlefield, every light a reminder of the war she had just declared. Inside, she could hear the faint murmurs of Riccardo on a call, likely dealing with the inevitable fallout of today’s meeting.For a moment, she allowed herself a breath—a single heartbeat of vulnerability. Then the door behind her clicked open.She didn’t turn, but she felt Riccardo’s presence immediately, electric and magnetic. He didn’t say anything right away, just stood there, watching her.“You made waves today,” he said finally, voice low.“That was the point.”A beat of silence stretched between them. Then he stepped forward, coming to stand beside her. His hand brushed her waist, possessive but steady.“They’ll test you harder now,” Riccardo said. “Mateo, Sabrina, the rest. You challenged their loyalty to me by standing as my equal.”“I didn’t challe
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The Falcone estate buzzed with an energy that was almost feral. Security doubled at every entrance. Armed guards posted at the gates. Every servant and staff member was vetted, cleared, and watched.Camilla stepped into the grand hall with Riccardo by her side, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Tonight was more than a social gathering. It was a show of force.A reminder to everyone that Camilla Knight was no pawn.The room was filled with powerful figures—captains, lieutenants, allies who controlled entire slices of the underworld. Men and women who had built empires from blood and ruin. And every single one of them turned to look at her the moment she entered.Some with curiosity.Some with calculation.And some with barely veiled hostility.Riccardo’s fingers brushed the small of her back—silent encouragement. Camilla straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and let the silence stretch for one heavy, dangerous beat.Then she moved forward, owning the room like it had
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Morning came cloaked in a heavy, gray mist that curled along the edges of the Falcone estate. Camilla stood by the tall windows of the bedroom, watching as the sun fought a losing battle against the clouds.It matched her mood perfectly.She hadn’t slept much. Every creak of the old house, every whisper of the wind against the windows, kept her on edge. The anonymous note replayed in her mind again and again.We know your secrets. You can’t hide behind him forever.Someone was targeting her specifically—not just Riccardo. And she needed to figure out who before they made their next move.Behind her, the door creaked open, and Riccardo stepped in, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair still damp from the shower.“They’ll regret putting you on edge,” he said, voice rough from sleep but edged with violence.She turned to face him, arms crossed. “We can’t just react. We need to be smarter than them.”A slow, proud smile curved Riccardo’s mouth. “Already ahead of you, angel.”He crossed the room,
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The night air was thick with the salt of the nearby ocean as Camilla and Riccardo pulled up to the abandoned docks. Warehouse Twelve loomed ahead of them, a crumbling skeleton of rusted metal and broken glass.It felt like walking straight into the jaws of a beast.But Camilla didn’t flinch.She had Riccardo at her side—and more importantly, she had a mission.The black SUV came to a smooth stop a few blocks away. Marco was behind the wheel, stone-faced as ever. Luca sat in the passenger seat, double-checking his gun.“Radio check,” Luca said. “You’re both wired. We’ll be listening.”Camilla nodded, adjusting the tiny earpiece in her ear. Her fingers brushed the sleek black holster hidden beneath her leather jacket, the weight of her pistol a familiar comfort.“Try not to get killed,” Marco said gruffly, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to meet Camilla’s gaze.She smirked. “No promises.”Riccardo opened the door and stepped out, hand instinctively reaching for Camilla’s as she fol
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The rain fell hard against the cracked windshield of Camilla’s beat-up sedan as she pulled into the gravel driveway of her father’s estate. A single dim light flickered above the front door, barely illuminating the ivy-covered walls of the old mansion. It looked abandoned—too quiet, too still. Her heart pounded as she stepped out of the car, high heels crunching over loose gravel. She hadn’t been here in months. Not since the last screaming match with her father. He’d begged her to stay away, told her things were getting dangerous. She hadn’t listened. She never did. Now he wasn’t answering her calls, and his assistant had left her a voicemail in the middle of the night. Come home. Urgently. No details. Just panic in her voice. Camilla shoved open the heavy door. It wasn’t locked. “Dad?” she called out, stepping inside. Silence. The house was too cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones—not from weather, but from something wrong. Lights were off in the foyer,
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The ink was still drying when Riccardo slid the contract back into the folder with the precision of a man sealing someone’s fate. Camilla stared at the paper, her pulse thudding in her ears. Her signature looked foreign beside her father’s. Like a final breath before drowning. “That’s it?” she whispered. “It’s done?” Riccardo nodded. “Congratulations, Mrs. Falcone.” The words hit her like a slap. She wasn’t married. Not really. Not in the way it was supposed to mean. This was a transaction. She had sold herself to the devil and signed it in ink instead of blood. And he wore satisfaction like a tailored suit. “You’ll move into my house by tonight,” he added. “You’ll find the terms of your… stay quite livable.” “Like a gilded prison,” she muttered. He smirked. “Only if you try to run.” She shot him a glare, but he’d already turned his back, reaching for his phone. “Car will be outside in twenty minutes. Pack light.” “I’m not a stray dog you picked up off the stre
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Camilla sat in the back of the blacked-out SUV, her fingers clutched around the hem of the white silk dress Riccardo had laid out for her. Not a gown—nothing dramatic. Just simple, sleeveless, and elegant. The kind of white that dared you to stain it. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She looked down at her hands. No bouquet. No bridesmaids. Just trembling fingers that wouldn’t stop. Riccardo sat beside her, dressed in a black three-piece suit. Not a wrinkle on him. He looked like he was headed to a corporate board meeting, not his own wedding. His jaw was clean-shaven, his expression unreadable, and not once had he glanced her way. This wasn’t romance. It was a branding. “You could at least pretend you’re not dragging me into hell,” she muttered. He finally looked at her. “Hell? Camilla, I own hell. I’m just giving you a front-row seat.” She rolled her eyes, but it was a weak defense. Because beneath her sarcasm was fear—and he could see it. He always could. The churc
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The night air was thick with the salt of the nearby ocean as Camilla and Riccardo pulled up to the abandoned docks. Warehouse Twelve loomed ahead of them, a crumbling skeleton of rusted metal and broken glass.It felt like walking straight into the jaws of a beast.But Camilla didn’t flinch.She had Riccardo at her side—and more importantly, she had a mission.The black SUV came to a smooth stop a few blocks away. Marco was behind the wheel, stone-faced as ever. Luca sat in the passenger seat, double-checking his gun.“Radio check,” Luca said. “You’re both wired. We’ll be listening.”Camilla nodded, adjusting the tiny earpiece in her ear. Her fingers brushed the sleek black holster hidden beneath her leather jacket, the weight of her pistol a familiar comfort.“Try not to get killed,” Marco said gruffly, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to meet Camilla’s gaze.She smirked. “No promises.”Riccardo opened the door and stepped out, hand instinctively reaching for Camilla’s as she fol
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Morning came cloaked in a heavy, gray mist that curled along the edges of the Falcone estate. Camilla stood by the tall windows of the bedroom, watching as the sun fought a losing battle against the clouds.It matched her mood perfectly.She hadn’t slept much. Every creak of the old house, every whisper of the wind against the windows, kept her on edge. The anonymous note replayed in her mind again and again.We know your secrets. You can’t hide behind him forever.Someone was targeting her specifically—not just Riccardo. And she needed to figure out who before they made their next move.Behind her, the door creaked open, and Riccardo stepped in, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair still damp from the shower.“They’ll regret putting you on edge,” he said, voice rough from sleep but edged with violence.She turned to face him, arms crossed. “We can’t just react. We need to be smarter than them.”A slow, proud smile curved Riccardo’s mouth. “Already ahead of you, angel.”He crossed the room,
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The Falcone estate buzzed with an energy that was almost feral. Security doubled at every entrance. Armed guards posted at the gates. Every servant and staff member was vetted, cleared, and watched.Camilla stepped into the grand hall with Riccardo by her side, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Tonight was more than a social gathering. It was a show of force.A reminder to everyone that Camilla Knight was no pawn.The room was filled with powerful figures—captains, lieutenants, allies who controlled entire slices of the underworld. Men and women who had built empires from blood and ruin. And every single one of them turned to look at her the moment she entered.Some with curiosity.Some with calculation.And some with barely veiled hostility.Riccardo’s fingers brushed the small of her back—silent encouragement. Camilla straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and let the silence stretch for one heavy, dangerous beat.Then she moved forward, owning the room like it had
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Camilla stood at the balcony of their penthouse later that night, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. The city stretched out below her like a glittering battlefield, every light a reminder of the war she had just declared. Inside, she could hear the faint murmurs of Riccardo on a call, likely dealing with the inevitable fallout of today’s meeting.For a moment, she allowed herself a breath—a single heartbeat of vulnerability. Then the door behind her clicked open.She didn’t turn, but she felt Riccardo’s presence immediately, electric and magnetic. He didn’t say anything right away, just stood there, watching her.“You made waves today,” he said finally, voice low.“That was the point.”A beat of silence stretched between them. Then he stepped forward, coming to stand beside her. His hand brushed her waist, possessive but steady.“They’ll test you harder now,” Riccardo said. “Mateo, Sabrina, the rest. You challenged their loyalty to me by standing as my equal.”“I didn’t challe
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The room was suffocating. It wasn’t the weight of the air or the dim, artificial lighting, but the tension that seemed to wrap around Camilla like a vice. Riccardo had warned her—the game was changing, and now she could feel the shift in the very marrow of her bones.They had moved past small tests and petty challenges. This was no longer about securing a seat at the table—it was about taking the throne. And Camilla was beginning to realize just how dangerous the climb would be.She sat at the head of a long, polished table in the private conference room, surrounded by Riccardo’s inner circle. Seven men and one woman were gathered in the room, each of them watching her with a mix of respect and calculation. It was the same look they had given her during her first meeting, but this time, it was different. She wasn’t just a newcomer anymore. She was a force to be reckoned with.Riccardo stood beside her, his presence towering over the rest. His stoic expression gave nothing away, but Ca
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The city outside the penthouse window gleamed with cold lights, the shadows long and stretching, like the dark tendrils of the life Camilla was slowly growing accustomed to. Riccardo stood beside her, his presence as heavy as the night air itself. He had remained mostly silent since their conversation earlier, but Camilla could feel the shift in the room—a tension that buzzed like static, threatening to overwhelm them both.She stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the skyline, though her mind was elsewhere. Riccardo’s words still echoed in her head. This world, his world, was now her world too. And the more she learned, the more she saw the fine line between surviving and thriving in it.“You look lost in thought,” Riccardo’s voice broke the silence, sharp and commanding as always. His tone didn’t carry any warmth, but it didn’t need to. In this world, it was the silence that spoke the loudest.“I’m thinking,” Camilla replied, her voice steady, though her insides were a storm of que
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The heavy scent of leather and whiskey lingered in the air as Camilla leaned back in the plush chair, her eyes never leaving Dante. His dark presence filled the room like a storm waiting to break. It had been hours since the confrontation with Isadora, but the silence between them was thick with unspoken words.Riccardostood by the window, staring out at the skyline, his expression unreadable. The moonlight bathed his face in a soft, pale glow, highlighting the hard lines of his jaw, the sharp angles of his face. He was a man made of contradictions—unbreakable yet haunted, ruthless yet strangely protective.“I never thought I’d be here,” Camilla said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was steady, but there was a tinge of uncertainty beneath the surface. “I never thought I’d be standing here, in this world… with you.”Dante’s eyes flicked to hers, his gaze sharp and assessing. “And yet, here you are. You’ve come this far, Camilla. Don’t question it now.”She felt a pang in her che
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The night was thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the soft hum of the car’s engine as it cut through the streets of the city. Camilla sat in the back seat, her thoughts a swirling storm. The deal they had made—one that had seemed so simple, so necessary—had only deepened the sense of danger that surrounded them.Riccardo sat beside her, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. There was an undeniable tension in the air, an electricity that made Camilla feel both alive and on edge. The weight of the power they had just gained was intoxicating, but so was the risk. Every step they took, every move they made, could tip the balance in their favor—or lead to their downfall.The warehouse had been the first step. But now, they had to move quickly. The people they had aligned themselves with were not friends. They were allies, but that didn’t guarantee loyalty.“We’ve made a powerful enemy today,” Riccardo said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, a growl of frus
