The silence after the massacre pressed on Luca’s chest like a weight too heavy to bear. The banquet hall, once a place of power and celebration, was nothing but a graveyard of shattered glass and broken bodies. Blood pooled across marble veins, reflecting the flicker of dying candles. The violins lay abandoned, strings snapped, their music forever silenced.And in the center of it all, Luca knelt beside his father’s body.Don Vittorio’s lifeless eyes stared upward, still fierce even in death. His hand, once steady on the trigger of a pistol, now lay limp in a pool of crimson. Luca touched it with trembling fingers, as if trying to pass his warmth into a body already gone cold.“Father…” His voice cracked, more a plea than a word. He wanted to shake him, to beg him to rise, to tell him this was another lesson in strength. But the truth had already soaked into his bones. Vittorio Romano, the unshakable Don, was dead.And Luca had done nothing to stop it.He lifted his gaze, staring at t

The Romano mansion no longer felt like home. Its walls whispered secrets, its corridors creaked like bones, and its silence weighed heavier than the sound of gunfire. Luca walked through the dim hallway, his footsteps echoing against marble, each step carrying the weight of what he had done.The shadows still clung to him. No matter how many times he washed his hands, he could still feel the blood, still hear the dying gasp of the man he had killed with the curse. It had not been a choice, it had been instinct. But instinct was dangerous when it came from something he barely understood.Matteo trailed close behind him. “The men are restless,” the consigliere murmured. “Half of them fear you. The other half fear Emilio. If you don’t claim control soon, the family will split.”Luca’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask for this curse. I didn’t ask to kill with shadows.”“And yet you did.” Matteo’s voice was sharp, though not cruel. “You cannot run from what you are, Luca. The question is wheth

The flames still raged, but the battlefield had fallen silent. Emilio had retreated into the smoke with what was left of his men, his laughter echoing long after he disappeared. The Romano estate was ruined, bodies scattered across the courtyard, stone walls blackened by fire. But it wasn’t Emilio’s assault that weighed heaviest in the air. It was Luca.He stood in the center of it all, chest heaving, hands dripping with blood. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, an unnatural crimson that made even the surviving Romano guards recoil. No one dared come closer. They watched him as one might watch a wild beast that could either collapse or tear them all apart in the next breath.Inside Luca, the war had not ended. His body trembled, veins bulging as the curse screamed louder than ever. His senses sharpened to a point that bordered on madness. He could hear every heartbeat around him. He could smell every drop of blood. His fangs cut into his own lip, tasting the copper tang that nearly

Night fell heavy over the city, but peace never came with it. Somewhere in the distance, drums echoed, a deep, hollow thrum that did not belong to music but to war. Emilio had chosen his timing well.From the balcony of the Romano estate, Luca watched the skyline. The curse stirred beneath his skin, restless at the scent of danger. He could feel Emilio’s hand moving through the city like a serpent tightening around prey.Reports came in from all sides. Warehouses burned on the western docks. Romano shipments vanished before they reached their buyers. Men disappeared, dragged off alleys and found with their throats cut, always with the same message carved into their flesh: The Serpent rises.Emilio was not hiding anymore. He was declaring war.Inside the estate, the council was chaos. Voices clashed, arguments spilling like broken glass.“We cannot fight both Emilio and your… condition,” Marco spat across the table. “The men are afraid, Luca. They whisper that you are no longer our Don

The battlefield stank of blood and smoke. Screams rose and fell like broken music, the clash of steel ringing through the estate like funeral bells. The gates lay shattered, flames licking across the stone walls, shadows twisting in every corner.But for Luca, there was only one shadow that mattered.Emilio.His brother rode forward through the chaos, serpent crest gleaming on his chestplate, his smile carved in cruelty. His sword dripped with Romano blood, and his eyes glowed with the certainty of victory. Every step of his horse echoed like thunder against Luca’s chest.Luca’s grip tightened on his blade. The curse pulsed under his skin, his veins burning with golden fire. His body ached with the strain of containing it. His men faltered around him, torn between rallying to his side or recoiling from the beast he had almost become.Emilio saw it, and laughed. The sound was sharp, cruel, cutting through the night. “Look at you, brother. Our father’s perfect heir, the Romano’s golden