chapter 2

Chapter 2.

ALLIANCE.

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PALERMO, ITALY.

DE ANGELIS PENTHOUSE.

A man's screams echoed off the cold concrete walls of the dark basement.

A single bulb swung above, casting flickering shadows over bloodstained tiles. Chains rattled, a sharp metallic scent of iron filled the room, mixing with sweat, fear and death.

And the man behind all of this?

He sat in the dark, elbows resting on the armrests of a leather chair that looked more like a throne than a piece of furniture. Only the glow of the bulb behind him cut through the shadows, revealing his silver coloured hair.

The dark angel.

Angelo De Angelis.

A man knelt before him, trembling and bleeding. Whispering prayers in a language he didn't care to understand.

Finally he stood and walked forward, each step deliberate, echoing like judgement. Then he paused, gloved hands tucked behind his back and black coat brushing his boots. Cold blue eyes stared at the man in front of him. No emotion, no hesitation. It was just calm, patient, unblinking and deadly.

The man chained to the wall trembled and whimpered. “P-please… I didn't know…I…I didn't —”

He slowly tilted his head. “You didn't know?” He asked silently. “You sold our shipment to the Albanians, and you didn't know?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate.

“No…no, I didn't! I swear it was a mistake!”

He moved closer and crouched right in front of the man. Then his voice dropped into a whisper.

“Mistake? Mistakes….cost.”

Then he rose with the quiet dominance of a man who didn't need to raise his voice to command fear.

His eyes swept the room, scanning every soldier until they straightened without being told. His brother and second in command, Aurelio, stood beside him, dressed in a black suit, silent with his arms crossed, looking like a shadow carved in flesh.

Then, in the silence, his voice sliced through the air. “I Corvi.” < the crows >

The response came slow and chilling in perfect unison. “Dark. Always watching.”

He spoke again but slower, like an ancient ritual was being summoned. “I Corvi.” < the crows >

“Dark. Always watching.”

The tension deepened, as if the very air bowed to him.

And in a way… it did.

Angelo's gaze hardened, “What is our motto?”

They answered with a vow etched in their bones. “We fly in the shadows and strike in the light. Bringing silence before your demise. Our black wings carry vengeance, for….”

“For we are drawn to what?” His voice was colder now, and more deadlier.

“For we are drawn to death.”

He turned back to the trembling man on his knees. Blood clung to the man's lip, sweat trailing from his temple while he shaked in fear like a chicken.

Then Angelo spoke in a calm and deadly voice.

“And right now…we are drawn to yours.”

Silence filled the air, after which his voice rose, not loud, but filled with finality.

“What is the reward for betrayal?” His gaze lingered on the traitor.

A voice sliced through the silence, Aurelio's voice.

He stepped forward in a cold and cruel voice. “Treason. And that means… Off. With. His. Head!.”

A slow smile curled at the corner of Angelo's lips, empty of warmth but enough to reveal his dimples.

He didn't look at Aurelio. His eyes remained locked on the trembling man before him.

“Vito,” He called, almost softly.

The enforcer, Vito Vitale stepped forward without hesitation, cracking his knuckles as he stared at the traitor.

Angelo tilted his head slightly. “Make it slow, memorable, and have it delivered to the Albanians.”

Then, without waiting, he turned and began walking out of the room. Aurelio followed, with their footsteps echoing behind them.

As the heavy door closed, they approached the elevator doors and stepped in, then the doors slid shut with a soft chime.

Angelo exhaled slowly and glanced sideways. “How long has Ariel been back from Naples?”

Aurelio smirked, arms folded. “Two days. Brought back three bullet wounds and a very bad attitude.”

Angelo huffed a short laugh. “Sounds like him.”

“And Amedeo?” He added, casually. “Still pretending he's not the golden boy?”

Aurelio grinned. “He’s been whining about having to babysit politicians. Said he'd rather be locked up in his room with his precious computers.”

“Well, tell him next time he whines, I'll assign him to desk duty.”

“He'll probably fake a heart attack.”

Angelo let out a soft chuckle, but it was real. For a second, the mask of the Don slipped, revealing the true man underneath. Just a man who cared about his family. A man with his brother in an elevator, talking about their chaotic siblings.

*Ding*

The doors slid open into the penthouse upper level, revealing his two other brothers. Ariel, the third born and captain of the soldiers with Amedeo who was the last born and their tech specialist.

Amedeo sat by the liquor cabinet. One hand holding a glass of scotch, with the other moving furiously on a laptop.

While Ariel was lounging on the couch with a glass of wine, and boots on the edge of the coffee table like he owned it.

“Look who finally graced us,” Ariel said, tipping his glass. “The executioner and his right hand.”

Aurelio snorted. “Haha, very funny.”

Amedeo raised a brow. “What took you so long? Another speech before the beheading?” He asked, looking at them from the top of his laptop.

“Something like that,” Angelo said, stepping inside.

Aurelio took his place beside Amedeo, while Angelo moved toward the center of the room.

“I called you all because there's been a proposal.” He said.

Ariel's brow shot up. “A proposal?”

“Yes,” he paused, “A marriage proposal.”

Amedeo blinked, closing his laptop. “From who?”

“The Red Devils.”

That earned a silence.

Then, Ariel let out a low whistle. “Bold of them.

“L'audacia.” < The audacity. > Aurelio murmured.

“They want peace?” Aurelio scoffed. “Or are they just scared.”

“Both,” Angelo replied, sipping from Ariel's glass of wine. “They have offered their princess as a seal to the alliance.”

“Do you know her?” Amedeo asked.

“I only know just the name,” he said, swirling the glass. “Millicent Romano.”

“Sounds familiar,” Amedeo muttered.

“Is she pretty?” Ariel asked, evoking a groan from Aurelio.

“Ariel c'mon.” Aurelio groaned. “Pretty? That's what you're concerned about?”

“What?,” Ariel asked lazily. “I'm not even allowed to ask?”

Ignoring them, he drank from the glass again. “I haven't seen her face. Don't need to,” he said.

Aurelio watched him closely. “So… you're accepting?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Even after what they did to mama?” Amedeo asked.

Angelo's gaze hardened. “Especially for what they did to mama. We've had a rough history with each other, but what they did to mama was the last straw. Some debts need settling. And theirs is long overdue.”

Amedeo titled his head. “So…what do you plan to do with her?”

Angelo smiled. “Her? She's just a tool. I'll play their game, agree with the alliance. The wedding is in two days. I'll use her to go along with it, make them believe they've won.”

Then, after a pause, he added darkly, “And when the time is right… I'll burn everything they love to the ground, along with their goddamn empire.”

He chuckled creepily, “They think they're buying peace. But I say we take their offer…and make it our war.”

His brothers exchanged glances, the weight of his word settling between them.

Ariel chuckled, but it lacked humor. “Poor girl. Hope she knows what she's walking into.”

His lips curled into a cruel smile. “She. Will. Soon. She'll bleed before this is over.”

“Does she deserve it?” Amedeo asked with a hint of softness in his voice.

“They all deserve it, Amedeo,” he paused. “This isn't an alliance, brother. It's the beginning of their end.”

And Millicent?

Whoever she was, she would be the perfect tool. Just another pawn.

Who she really was…he didn't know.

But she was walking straight into the lion's den.

And when the time came, he'd be the one holding the chain.

Let them send their princess.

He'd accept her with a smile and use her to finish what he intended to start.