The chamber was silent after Lucius's words, the air heavy with the weight of his laugh. The council sat like shadows carved from stone, their eyes fixed on the Devil who bound them together. Outside, the city still thought itself alive with power—but inside these walls, true power was breathing, plotting, sharpening its teeth.
Lucius leaned back in his throne-like chair, crimson eyes flickering across the table. "Power is not declared," he said slowly, his voice cold and cutting. "It is proven. And tonight, the Devil's Mafia will show the city who rules." His gaze landed on Darius Veylan. "You will begin."
Darius's lips twisted into a savage grin. "Name the target, Boss, and I'll crush their bones one by one." His fists cracked like thunder, eager for blood.
"The Vescari Syndicate," Silvio interrupted smoothly, his fox-like voice calm where Darius's was fire. "They've been whispering about taking over the East Docks. They think your rise is just noise, Boss. They'll soon learn it's the sound of a storm."
Lucius chuckled darkly, his laugh rolling across the chamber. "Perfect. The Vescari will be our message." He turned to Ravenna, whose knife was already spinning in her fingers. "You'll join Darius. Paint their fear across the streets."
Ravenna's eyes gleamed with madness, her smile almost loving. "For you, Lucius, I'll carve their names into my skin if I must. Their screams will be my gift to you."
At the far end, Dr. Adrian Crowe pushed his glasses up his nose, grinning like a wolf. "Leave the aftermath to me. When the police arrive, the evidence will disappear. The courts will see nothing but shadows. By dawn, the Vescari name will be erased on paper as well as in blood."
Victor Draemont, the Iron Tycoon, finally spoke, his voice calm and commanding. "And when their businesses fall, I will absorb them. Their factories, their ships, their markets—all will become Devil's Mafia property. The economy will bow as swiftly as the streets."
Lucius rose slowly, the motion alone enough to make the council stiffen with anticipation. He spread his arms wide as though embracing the flames of hell itself. His laugh burst forth—cruel, sharp, undeniable. "Then tonight," he declared, "the Devil walks. And when they see me, they will piss themselves."
The council rose as one, shadows stretching long against the walls. Outside, the night was waiting, and so were the screams. The Devil's Mafia was about to take its first step into legend.