The De Luca estate sat at the outskirts of the city, its grandeur as imposing as the family’s reputation. Inside, the dining room was a mix of luxury and tradition, with a long, polished mahogany table surrounded by chairs upholstered in rich velvet. Dante sat at the head, flanked by his parents and younger sister, Bianca.

“Dante,” his father, Lorenzo De Luca, began, his deep voice carrying authority, “how are the operations in the city?”

Dante sipped his wine before responding. “Under control, as always.”

His mother, Isabella, chimed in, her tone sharp yet loving. “You should be more careful. We’re hearing whispers about authorities sniffing around.”

Dante’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Let them sniff. They’ll find nothing.”

Bianca, ever the observer, leaned forward. “But you have been distracted lately, haven’t you, fratello? Visiting cafes and all.” Her teasing tone made his eyes narrow slightly, but she quickly added, “I’m just saying—don’t let your distractions cost you.”

Lorenzo cut through the light banter, his expression hardening. “We have more important matters to discuss.”

The room grew tense. Lorenzo’s voice dropped, and he spoke as if every word carried the weight of history. “The Rai family.”

At the mention of the name, Dante’s grip on his wine glass tightened imperceptibly.

“They’re the reason we lost Emilio,” Lorenzo continued, his voice laced with bitterness. “Your uncle was loyal to this family until his last breath, and the Rai family dared to spill his blood. It’s a debt that remains unpaid.”

Isabella placed a hand on her husband’s arm, her eyes gleaming with quiet fury. “We won’t forget. And we won’t forgive.”

Dante’s jaw clenched, but his tone remained calm, almost detached. “I’ll handle it. When the time is right.”

Bianca glanced between her family members, her usual playfulness replaced by a solemn expression. “They won’t know what hit them.”

The conversation shifted to other matters, but the air remained heavy with unspoken anger and plans for vengeance.

Later that night, Dante was in his study when his phone buzzed. He picked it up, and a familiar voice on the other end spoke hurriedly.

“Boss, we’ve confirmed the source of the leaked intel. Two of our men were bought off.”

Dante’s expression darkened, his eyes turning cold. “Where are they now?”

“In the warehouse. Waiting for your arrival.”

Without another word, Dante ended the call. He changed out of his tailored suit into something darker and less conspicuous—a black shirt and leather jacket. The transformation from corporate magnate to Mafia King was seamless.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The warehouse was dimly lit, its cold, industrial air filled with the muffled cries of two men bound to chairs in the center of the room.

Dante entered, his presence commanding silence from his men.

The traitors froze when they saw him, their faces pale with terror.

“You betrayed me,” Dante said, his voice low but menacing, each word like a blade. “You sold information to my enemies. Do you have any idea what that means?”

One of the men stammered, “P-please, it wasn’t like that—we needed the money—”

Dante held up a hand, silencing him. He paced slowly, circling them like a predator. “Loyalty,” he began, “is not optional in my world. It is absolute. And betrayal? Betrayal has consequences.”

He nodded to one of his men, who handed him a pair of brass knuckles. Without warning, Dante delivered a sharp blow to the man’s face, sending blood splattering.

The second man broke into sobs, pleading for mercy, but Dante ignored him. His focus was cold, methodical, as he delivered punishment.

“Let this be a lesson,” he said, his voice calm despite the violence. “No one betrays me and walks away unscathed.”

By the time Dante stepped out of the warehouse, his hands were clean, but his expression was darker than the night sky. Vince was waiting by his car, leaning casually against the door.

“All done?” Vince asked, lighting a cigarette.

Dante nodded. “They won’t make the same mistake again.”

Vince smirked. “You know, you’re scaring off all the competition. Not that I’m complaining.”

Dante didn’t respond. His thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on a pair of fiery eyes and a quiet strength that had begun to haunt him.