The corpse of Don Matteo lay sprawled across the pavement, his lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The silence that followed was suffocating—broken only by the ragged breaths of the surviving soldiers. Their Don was gone, their dynasty shattered in a single night.
Lucius stood over the body, crimson eyes blazing like fire against the darkness. He stretched out his arms, his grin sharp and merciless. "Your king is dead," he declared, his voice carrying through the empty streets. "From this night forward, you belong to me—or you join him in the grave."
One by one, the Grimaldi soldiers fell to their knees. Some sobbed openly, others clenched their teeth in shame, but none resisted. Their pride, their loyalty, their very identities had been crushed beneath the Devil's laughter. In this moment, Lucius Draxion became not only their conqueror, but their new master.
Cain's booming voice cut through the silence. "Kneel deeper, worms! You should be grateful he spares your lives." He kicked one soldier who hesitated, forcing him face-first into the pavement. The rest bent lower, trembling as though the Devil's shadow had already wrapped chains around their necks.
But not everyone stayed. In the chaos, a single figure slipped into the shadows. A young man—bloodied, limping, but alive. His name was Enzo, Matteo's nephew, once dismissed as too soft to lead. Now, with rage and grief burning in his chest, he vanished into the night, swearing to one day reclaim the honor of the Grimaldis.
Lucius scanned the crowd, his laughter echoing like a funeral bell. "Good," he said softly. "Now the Devil's Mafia grows stronger." His eyes narrowed, catching the faint trace of movement in the alley. His grin sharpened. He had seen someone flee—but he let them go.
Because Lucius knew what fear did to survivors. Fear grew into desperation. Desperation grew into mistakes. And mistakes always led them back to his claws.
Far away, Enzo collapsed against a brick wall, clutching his bleeding arm. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his eyes burned with defiance. "Devil…" he whispered. "I'll make you pay."