Mafia Prosecutor De Luca Blood Oath

"Don't move, Matteo. One more inch, and you'll only quicken your heart rate and spread that poison faster through your brain."

A cold, intimidating voice suddenly broke the silence from the dark corner of Matteo’s apartment, which should have been empty. Matteo De Luca froze in the doorway, key still hanging in the lock. In the gloom, he smelled neither gas nor gunpowder, but rather a strange, sweet aroma, like roasted bitter almonds.

"Who are you?" Matteo hissed. His hand slowly moved towards his jacket pocket, aiming for the phone he’d prepared as a panic button. One long press on the volume button, and all the Volkov Clan corruption data would be uploaded to a public server.

"Breathe slowly, Prosecutor," the voice returned, followed by the rhythmic sound of boot steps on the wooden floor. "If you're looking for your phone, I'm afraid it's no more useful than a doorstop now. The signal here is dead, and more importantly, your finger muscles will give out very soon."

Matteo tried to press the button, but his thumb felt like a heavy block of cement. Numbness began to creep up his nerves, climbing his arm and making his knees tremble violently. He staggered, his shoulder hitting the doorframe before he finally slumped to the floor. His breathing was laboured, his lungs seemingly shrinking.

A man stepped out of the shadows. He wore all-black tactical clothing with a balaclava mask that only left a pair of ice-cold eyes visible. On the back of his left hand, a tattoo of a snake coiled around a dagger was clearly visible under the street light filtering through the window.

That tattoo... The Volkov Clan.

"You're cowards," Matteo mumbled, his voice now only a hoarse whisper. "You think killing me will bury the truth?"

The Killer knelt in front of Matteo, tilting his head in a mocking gesture. "Truth has a price, Matteo. And you tried to give it away for free. That's bad for business."

He reached into Matteo's pocket, took the advanced phone, and crushed it with a single squeeze of his tactically gloved hand. "You thought your backup plan was genius? We've been monitoring your communications since you left the prosecutor's office. We didn't use bullets because bullets leave ballistic traces. We use chemistry. One breath was enough to make your lungs give out, Prosecutor."

"Elias." Matteo hissed the name with ingrained hatred. "Did Elias Volkov send you?"

"Mr. Volkov sends his regards," the Killer replied. He stood up and took a small jerrycan from his bag. "He says you’re too loud for someone who has no one left in this world."

Just then, a subtle 'click' sound echoed from the kitchen. Matteo’s pupils widened. It wasn't footsteps. It was a detonator.

BOOOOM!

A massive explosion shook the entire apartment floor. Concrete walls cracked, window panes shattered into a deadly rain of crystals. A wave of heat hit Matteo's body, throwing him across the corridor until his back hit the opposite wall with a rib-breaking thud.

The world went blurry. Matteo's ears were ringing violently, leaving behind a painful silence amidst the flames that began licking the ceiling. He coughed, spitting thick red liquid onto the floor now covered in ash. In the fading fragments of his consciousness, he saw the Killer still standing there, untouched by the explosion, as if the fire were his loyal servant.

"Look at yourself." The Killer walked closer, his feet stepping on the glowing debris. "The defender of the law, the people's hero, now lying like a mangy dog in the ruins of his own idealism. You were honest, Matteo. But your honesty didn't give you an explosion-proof shield, did it?"

The Killer opened the jerrycan lid and began pouring clear liquid around Matteo. The sharp smell of petrol now overpowered the sweet aroma of the earlier poison.

"Help... there's someone inside... help!"

A faint scream was heard from the adjacent apartment unit. Matteo’s neighbour, a young mother and her child. The fire began to spread towards them. Matteo's heart sank. He tried to move his hand, wanted to scream, to warn them, but all his nerves were numb. None of his limbs responded to his brain's commands.

"Don't worry about them," a new voice emerged. This voice was different. Heavier, more authoritative, and possessing a dense aura of darkness.

From behind the thick black smoke at the destroyed doorway, a man appeared in a charcoal-grey suit that starkly contrasted with the chaos around him. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his eyes glinted with malicious intelligence.

That man was Elias, the snake of the Volkov clan.

Elias stepped into the fire as if he were walking on a red carpet at a gala premiere. He stopped directly in front of Matteo’s bloodied face, then crouched down. He took out a silk handkerchief, carefully cleaning a small speck of dust from his shiny shoe, right in front of Matteo's dying eyes.

"Matteo, Matteo," Elias tutted, his voice full of feigned sympathy. "I truly hoped you were smarter than this. I offered you a throne beside me, but you chose a grave beneath my feet instead."

Matteo gathered his remaining strength, spitting towards Elias’s shoe, though only blood emerged from the corner of his mouth. "You're a monster..."

Elias laughed, a dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Monster is a term used by the weak to define the strong they cannot control. This world doesn't need dead honest people, Matteo. This world needs winners in power. And a winner won't let a pebble like you obstruct his path."

Elias stood up, then took a golden lighter from his pocket. He lit it, staring at the small flame with a worshipping gaze before throwing it onto the puddle of petrol near Matteo's feet.

Whoosh!

The fire immediately flared high, forming a wall of hell surrounding Matteo. The heat began to sear his skin, igniting unimaginable pain.

"Goodbye, Prosecutor," Elias said as he turned away. "In your next life, choose the winning side."

Elias and the Killer walked away, leaving the apartment to become a mass combustion furnace. Amidst the roar of the fire and the collapse of the ceiling, Matteo De Luca felt death approaching. However, behind the soul-crushing pain, a new spark emerged in his eyes, which were beginning to whiten.

It wasn't fear. It wasn't submission either.

It was a hatred so pure it could freeze fire.

If I die today...Matteo thought to himself, every cell in his body screaming against death. I swear, I will crawl out of hell just to drag you into it with me, Elias. I will kill you... even if I have to become a demon to do it.

His consciousness faded as the apartment roof collapsed on top of him, swallowing that bloody vow in a sea of raging red flames.