*The Valentino Clan*
"So, you're telling me that a random hacker, someone not even trained as a mobster, managed to outsmart all of you?" Sinn asked calmly, but everyone knew better than to trust that facade. He was called Lucifer for a reason. None of the mobsters replied or even acknowledged his statement, which seemed to infuriate him even more. "Answer me, you fools!" The mobsters all bowed, and even his siblings took a step backward. Everyone knew Lucifer didn't curse or swear, but when he was angry, the consequences were disastrous. His cross pendant dangled on his neck, a constant reminder that Sinn, despite his mansion in hell and a seat beside the devil, always wore the sacred object. "Now listen,"he said calmly, "if I have to get involved in this shit myself, I will kill everyone who shares your DNA." He stormed out, a tempest upon a still sea, his siblings following after him as the mobsters dispersed and got to work.
*Deadly Devil's Clan
(Prisoner Holding Room)
The prisoner holding room was one of the main torture rooms in the DD clan's territory. In one of the cells, a figure was seated, tied to a chair, asleep with their head slumped over. Suddenly, the figure stirred as silver rays of sunlight touched her face. The figure stretched, and her eyes flew open. "Where am I?" Ixora wondered to herself, then sighed. "For fuck's sake," she muttered as the events of the day before replayed in her memory.
Flashback: Unknown Location
Ixora kept running, passing through alleys, not knowing where she was going. All she knew was that she was running from the Valentinos, or so she thought. She was getting exhausted and hungry, having spent most of her money on buses, cabs, and other transport just to make sure she was unreachable. Minutes later, she turned back, a gut feeling telling her that she was being followed, but she saw no one. She continued on with the deep, nagging feeling until she was hit by a plank and fell unconscious.
Flashback Ends
Minutes later, Ixora was still seated, helpless and hopeless, completely drained and famished. Screaming was pointless, as they probably wouldn't answer, or it might provoke them to get rid of her, so she simply waited. She raised her head as the door creaked open, and a man who seemed like a guard came in and started to untie her. "The boss wants to see you," the guard stated as he began to usher her out. She looked around; there was basically no way she could escape. The house was heavily guarded. After some time spent going around, passing through hallways with scary-looking people staring at her, she was finally led into a room where the smell of tobacco welcomed her. There, she saw a handsome man, if she had to comment, sitting on a throne-like chair.
Deadly Devils"
Dominic Mordecai sat on a throne-like chair with a tobacco pipe at the corner of his almost dark lips. He sat, not sparing Ixora and a guard a glance, as he continued flipping through the files on his desk, acting completely oblivious to the two.
"Like, seriously," Ixora said in anger and desperation as Dominic suddenly jerked his head and shot a glance. He puffed out smoke from the pipe and finally gave them his attention. The man stepped fully into the light, and then Ixora saw him properly.
He was handsome, disarmingly so, too composed, too put together. His face looked young-late thirties, maybe early forties-with sharp features and a calm, almost effortless confidence. No visible scars, no lines of strain, yet there was something about his eyes that made her chest tighten. They were old, not tired, but seasoned-like they had seen too much and survived all of it.
His dark hair was combed neatly back, streaked faintly with silver that looked intentional rather than earned. He wore black-tailored, expensive, understated. Nothing flashy, nothing careless; the kind of clothing worn by men who didn't need to prove anything to anyone. As he moved closer, she caught the scent of tobacco-warm, rich, lingering. It clung to him like a signature, filling the room quietly the way his presence did. Even before he spoke, the air felt heavier, as though the space itself had adjusted to accommodate him.
He stood and walked to her, stopping in front of her, studying her face. He suddenly glared at the guards around. "What's this?" he bellowed in anger, throwing away the tobacco pipe.
"Boss, they made a mistake," one of the nearby guards said as he bowed. Ixora couldn't believe her ears; it was a mistake? They would let her go, right? Or so she thought.
"Bury the bodies of the incompetent fools without their heads," he stated as Ixora tried very hard to stop her eyes from bulging. He drew a chair nearby and sat in front of her like a typical mafia don there for interrogation. "I am Dominic Mordéclaire."
Ixora froze. He is a mafia clan leader. Who wouldn't know the infamous Dominic Mordéclaire, the leader of the Deadly Devils?
"Pardon my men's incompetence, but I won't be able to let you go like that due to certain circumstances," Dominic declared as Ixora stared without blinking.
"But I thought you said it was a mistake?" she said as she finally snapped out of her reverie. "This is a mafia-"
Dominic stopped as a young and handsome-looking guy came in. "Good day, Father. The shipments..." He paused as he stared at Ixora. "Ooh," he paused as he stared at Ixora. "Nice, hey beauty, who's she, Dad?" he asked.
"She was mistaken for a thief. Take her to one of the rooms before I decide what to do with her," Dominic said. "She's going to be executed tonight," Dominic stated as he left, and Ixora stared in shock, almost screaming.
"Hmm, name is Damon Mordeclai. I'll try to see that you don't get killed." He patted her as he led her out.
"More like Demon Mordeclai," she whisp
ered, but he heard and only shook his head.