The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The events of the previous night replayed in my mind—Mira’s unexpected presence, our unintended intimacy, and the ensuing guilt that gnawed at my conscience.I hadn’t planned for any of it. Our meeting was supposed to be a simple exchange of information, a step in Dante’s plan to exploit the Ember Pact’s weaknesses. But emotions had a way of derailing even the most meticulous strategies.A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Before I could respond, Dante entered, his presence commanding as always.“You’re up early,” he remarked, his gaze assessing.“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied, avoiding his eyes.He approached, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Something’s bothering you.”I hesitated, the weight of my guilt pressing down on me. “I met with Mira last night.”His expression remained neutral, but I sensed the tension beneath th
The night was quiet, yet sleep eluded me. The soft hum of the city outside my window contrasted sharply with the storm brewing within me. I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped tightly as if trying to hold myself together.Mira’s face lingered in my mind—the curve of her smile, the warmth of her gaze, the way her laughter eased my burdens. I had tried to dismiss these thoughts, to push them aside as mere distractions, but they persisted, growing stronger with each passing day.Dante’s presence had always been a constant in my life, a source of strength and stability. Our bond was forged through shared experiences, mutual respect, and a deep understanding of each other’s complexities. Yet, lately, a distance had begun to form, subtle but undeniable. Conversations felt strained, silences more prolonged. I couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, but I felt it—a growing chasm that neither of us acknowledged.I rose from the bed, pacing the room in an attempt
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. I stirred awake, the events of the previous night replaying vividly in my mind. Mira lay beside me, her breathing steady, a serene expression on her face. The intimacy we shared had been inevitable, a culmination of suppressed emotions and unspoken desires.I gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering on her skin. The warmth of her presence was comforting, yet a pang of guilt gnawed at me. Dante’s face flashed in my mind, his unwavering trust and camaraderie. How would he react if he knew?Mira stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She offered a soft smile, her hand reaching out to touch mine.“Good morning,” she whispered. “Morning,” I replied, my voice hoarse.We lay in silence, the weight of our actions settling in.“Do you regret it?” she asked, her voice barely audible.I turned to face her, searching her eyes. “No,” I admitted. “But I worry about the consequences.”
The world of crime is based on trust.And tonight, I was going to sell the biggest lie of my life.The club reverberated with deep bass, shaking the floor beneath my boots. Strobe lights flashed across bodies pressed together on the dance floor, drenched in sin and sweat. From the VIP lounge above, I had a perfect view of the chaos below—ideal for a king like Dante Valenci, who watches over his kingdom of crime.My target.As I stepped through security and into the lion's den, I adjusted the cuffs of my suit and maintained a cool expression. Luca Romano, the identity I would spent months creating, was ready to enter the mafia world.Six months prior."Cross, I want him in chains."The director's tone was cold as he slid a thick file across the table. I flipped it open, revealing photo after photo of Dante Valenci—mid-thirties, tall, fighter-like physique. Sharp Italian features, with black ink curling up his forearms. A man dressed in power. A man whose name instilled fear in every cr
Like a predator on the hunt, the Maserati sliced through the night as the city passed in a blur of neon and shadows. As I drove, I felt the weight of Dante's eyes on me and kept my hands steady on the wheel.His voice was smooth and tinged with curiosity as he said, "You are quiet."I grinned while continuing to focus on the road. "Just concentrated. Did not you say you wanted to put me to the test?Dark and amused, Dante gave a low laugh. "All right. You pick things up quickly.There was something unsaid in the thick air of the car. I sensed a quiet game, a controlled exchange of power between us. I had to keep up with him.We arrived at an unmarked warehouse on the outskirts of the city, with two men wearing fitted suits with covert holsters under their jackets watching over the entrance. Beyond those doors was a secret world, a world for the untouchables, the elite, and the corrupt.Dante approached me as I got out of the car, fiddling with the cuff of his black dress shirt. The da
The way Dante touched me carried a certain element of danger.The way a predator weighs its prey before determining whether to eat it whole is different from how a man holds a weapon or a threat.Long after he had released his grip, I could still feel the warmth of his fingers against my skin. An unspoken assertion. A caution. A game.I was still playing, too.The Road BackThe only sound between us as the Maserati sliced through the deserted city streets was the engine's low purr. My thoughts were sharp, and I kept my hands steady on the wheel.Dante sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching the streetlights go by with his head cocked to the side. His inked forearms were shadowed by the dim glow, which cut sharp angles into his face. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing only a small portion of his collarbone.I made myself pay attention to the road. Not him. Never him.There was a long pause before Dante finally said anything. "You are liked by Levin.""That counts as one of us
My hands were covered in blood that would not go away.I stood in front of the sink, watching the crimson swirl down the drain, disappearing as if it had never existed. However, I could still feel the gun's weight and the warmth of the man's blood as it spattered my knuckles.The trigger had been pulled by me. I had gone too far.Even though the water was extremely hot, I did not refuse it. I allowed it to burn. Allow it to burn into my flesh as though it would undo what I had done.The bathroom door clicked open behind me.I did not look around. did not need to. I recognized the person.Valenci, Dante.At first, he watched me while leaning against the doorframe without saying anything. His cologne—smoke, whiskey, something darkly masculine—mixed with the smell of steam and blood to fill the room with his presence."You paused," he said at last.I held onto the sink's edge. "But I did it nonetheless."Dante took a slow, methodical step forward. Indeed. You did.With a sharp exhale, I
The promise of a storm hung heavy in the air outside.As we left the restaurant, the tension from Montoya's words was still hanging between us like a loaded gun, and I could smell it in the air. With his hands in his pockets, Dante walked silently next to me. Even though I could not read his expression, I knew he was still going over everything in his head.For what duration have you two been having sex?I had brushed it off. Both of us had.However, the question's weight continued to cling to the area between us like a simmering, low heat that neither of us had managed to put out.I told myself it was just in my head.I assured myself that I was in charge.I made a lot of promises to myself.Then the shots began to fly.AmbushIt happened very quickly.We were heading toward Dante's car across the parking lot one moment. Then the night was split by the piercing crack of gunfire."Go down!" Dante growled and gave me a hard shove. A bullet flew by my ear and lodged itself in the car do
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. I stirred awake, the events of the previous night replaying vividly in my mind. Mira lay beside me, her breathing steady, a serene expression on her face. The intimacy we shared had been inevitable, a culmination of suppressed emotions and unspoken desires.I gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering on her skin. The warmth of her presence was comforting, yet a pang of guilt gnawed at me. Dante’s face flashed in my mind, his unwavering trust and camaraderie. How would he react if he knew?Mira stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She offered a soft smile, her hand reaching out to touch mine.“Good morning,” she whispered. “Morning,” I replied, my voice hoarse.We lay in silence, the weight of our actions settling in.“Do you regret it?” she asked, her voice barely audible.I turned to face her, searching her eyes. “No,” I admitted. “But I worry about the consequences.”
The night was quiet, yet sleep eluded me. The soft hum of the city outside my window contrasted sharply with the storm brewing within me. I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped tightly as if trying to hold myself together.Mira’s face lingered in my mind—the curve of her smile, the warmth of her gaze, the way her laughter eased my burdens. I had tried to dismiss these thoughts, to push them aside as mere distractions, but they persisted, growing stronger with each passing day.Dante’s presence had always been a constant in my life, a source of strength and stability. Our bond was forged through shared experiences, mutual respect, and a deep understanding of each other’s complexities. Yet, lately, a distance had begun to form, subtle but undeniable. Conversations felt strained, silences more prolonged. I couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, but I felt it—a growing chasm that neither of us acknowledged.I rose from the bed, pacing the room in an attempt
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The events of the previous night replayed in my mind—Mira’s unexpected presence, our unintended intimacy, and the ensuing guilt that gnawed at my conscience.I hadn’t planned for any of it. Our meeting was supposed to be a simple exchange of information, a step in Dante’s plan to exploit the Ember Pact’s weaknesses. But emotions had a way of derailing even the most meticulous strategies.A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Before I could respond, Dante entered, his presence commanding as always.“You’re up early,” he remarked, his gaze assessing.“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied, avoiding his eyes.He approached, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Something’s bothering you.”I hesitated, the weight of my guilt pressing down on me. “I met with Mira last night.”His expression remained neutral, but I sensed the tension beneath th
The city pulsed with unrest, its heartbeat erratic and fevered. The collapse of the Ember Pact had left a vacuum, and chaos eagerly filled the void. Dante, ever the strategist, had sent me to exploit the fractures, to turn allies into adversaries and sow discord among the remnants.I found myself in the heart of the turmoil, navigating treacherous alliances and whispered conspiracies. It was during one of these clandestine meetings that I first encountered Mira.She was a courier, or so she claimed, delivering messages between factions too cautious to use digital means. Our paths crossed in a dimly lit tavern, the air thick with smoke and tension.“You’re Luca, right?” she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and caution.I nodded, studying her. She was striking, with eyes that held secrets and a posture that suggested she was always ready to flee or fight.“I have something for you,” she said, slipping a folded note into my hand before disappearing into the crowd.The note contained
Luca’s POVHe vanished.No blood. No body. No message.Umbraion was gone—but his shadow grew longer.We killed the man.But we didn’t kill the myth.Two days after the summit assault, the city cracked open.It started as whispers.Conspiracy posts. Obscure message boards.Then the edits came—reels of Umbraion speaking, his voice spliced over footage of burned neighborhoods and police raids. The captions read like scripture:“If they can kill me, they can silence you.”“We are the fire. They are the smoke.”“No masters. No mercy. Only freedom.”It caught fire faster than we could trace the source.Within a week, the words were scrawled across alley walls and subway tiles.Within two?They were chanted in the streets.I watched from the rooftop as the protest turned.It had been peaceful—at first. A gathering in front of the city hall steps. Candles. Chants. Umbraion’s symbol painted on cardboard signs.Then someone threw a bottle.Then someone fired a shot.Then the police pushed forw
POV: LucaNo amount of training prepares you for walking into a place you know you might never leave.The Boston freight yard looked like it hadn’t seen daylight in a decade. Rusted tracks. Chain-link fences curling like dead ivy. Everything coated in soot, fog, and silence.But beneath it?The summit.Umbraion’s table.The heart of the Ember Pact.Dante and I crouched beside a rusted cargo container, hidden in shadow as the drone above fed us intel. Enzo’s people were tracking five vehicles arriving from different directions.Selene’s voice crackled through the comms. “They’re moving into position. 14 confirmed targets. Two more unconfirmed.”Dante whispered to me, low and close. “You still sure?”I looked at him.“No.”He smiled faintly. “Good. That means we’re sane.”We moved in with four others—two ex-military, two loyal soldiers from Dante’s original guard.It was surgical.Or it was supposed to be.We breached through the maintenance hatch on the northeast side. Metal screeched
Luca’s POVThe war room felt different with Selene in it.Not colder. Not warmer. Just… sharper.She stood at the edge of the table, arms crossed, gaze flicking over every face like she was still calculating threat levels. You didn’t spend a decade inside the Hollow Sect and walk out of it clean.But she wasn’t their soldier anymore.She was ours.Dante leaned over the map, voice low and clipped. “Start from the beginning. Everything.”Selene nodded once. “Umbraion’s plan isn’t local anymore. It’s not about turf. It’s not even about power. It’s ideological collapse. He believes if he destabilizes the five strongest criminal systems globally, the rest will fold like dominos.”Enzo stiffened beside me. “You’re saying he’s building a world war for the underworld.”“Yes,” Selene replied. “And New York was his first test city.”I felt the weight of that.We hadn’t just been at war.We’d been part of a trial run.And we’d failed.Dante moved the pawn on the table map to our west district. “
Luca’s POVThe city’s underbelly had always been a network of shadows and whispers, but the Hollow Sect operated in a realm even deeper—where silence was law and identity was fluid. Infiltrating them wasn’t just a mission; it was a descent into anonymity.Dante handed me a dossier, thin and unmarked. Inside, a single photograph: a woman, mid-thirties, eyes like obsidian, expression unreadable. Her name: Selene.“She’s our in,” Dante said. “Disillusioned with Umbraion’s methods. If anyone can be turned, it’s her.”I studied the photo, committing every detail to memory. “What’s her role?”“Recruitment and indoctrination. She shapes minds before they’re broken.”Perfect. If I could reach her, I could understand the Sect’s psyche.The initiation was brutal. Blindfolded, I was led through a labyrinth of corridors, each step echoing with the weight of unseen eyes. Voices murmured in languages I couldn’t place, and the air was thick with incense and something more metallic—blood, perhaps.Th
Luca’s POVThey used to call this part of the city “untouchable.”Our territory. Our ground. Our rules.But today, it looked like a graveyard.The fires from the café had been put out. The buildings were boarded up. The smell of smoke clung to everything like bad history. It had been three days, but no one was coming back. The neighborhood was dead.And it wasn’t just here.It was spreading.We weren’t fighting a turf war anymore.We were fighting a doctrine.A religion. A revolution.And the man behind it was Umbraion.The morning meeting at the safehouse was colder than usual.No jokes. No small talk. Just Enzo, Dante, me, and the quiet hum of the old ventilation system cutting through the silence like a warning.Enzo dropped a folder on the table with enough force to shake my coffee.I opened it. I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to.Page after page—photos, names, intercepted calls, encrypted message fragments.“Confirmed intelligence,” Enzo said. “The ones we thought were just rumors?