By dawn, the East Docks no longer smelled of salt. It smelled of blood. Seagulls circled above, feasting on bodies left behind like scraps. The name Vescari was wiped from the city in a single night. All that remained was silence, broken only by whispers that spread like wildfire.
"They say he laughed while he killed Marco.""No… Marco pissed himself before Lucius even touched him.""Draxion is not a man. He's the Devil walking in flesh."
The rumors crawled through taverns, through back alleys, through palaces where corrupt nobles hid behind curtains. In every corner of the city, one name was whispered, and every whisper trembled—Lucius Draxion.
In a golden tower high above the city, Victor Draemont, the Iron Tycoon, was already at work. While Darius, Ravenna, and Cain had left corpses behind, Victor left contracts, bank accounts, and false ledgers. The Vescari shipping lines quietly became Draemont holdings. Their warehouses were signed over by trembling officials who had no choice but to obey. Factories, shops, and even luxury clubs once owned by the Vescari family were seized overnight.
"Efficiency is war in silence," Victor said coolly, sitting across from Lucius in his private office. His expensive suit was untouched by blood, his calm demeanor a sharp contrast to Darius's brutality or Ravenna's madness. "By the time the city realizes what happened, the Vescari empire will be ours—completely legal, on paper. And the judges won't dare to ask why."
Dr. Adrian Crowe chuckled darkly, adjusting his glasses as he reviewed the papers. "Of course not. Because if they do, they'll find their careers shredded. Every law, every loophole bends to you, Boss. The world of justice is your playground." His grin was twisted, his admiration almost worship.
Meanwhile, Silvio Marcellus spread his map of the city across the table. His calm voice carried weight heavier than iron. "One family down, dozens remain. But with the docks under our control, trade and smuggling are ours. They will come to us in fear—or they will fall like the Vescari."
Lucius sat at the head of the table, his glass filled with crimson wine. He listened to his council—the beasts, the fanatics, the tycoon, the fox, the lawyer—and his laughter rolled low, cruel and proud. "Good. Let them whisper my name. Let them wet themselves when they imagine my shadow. Fear is the greatest currency, and tonight, we are rich."
The Devil's Mafia was no longer a secret. The underworld now had a master, and the city would learn that mercy did not live in the heart of the Devil.