Chapter one
The First Encounter
The rain had been falling steadily since midnight, drumming against the asphalt like a warning. Lagos glistened under neon signs that flickered in the puddles, casting distorted reflections of the city's chaos. In alleys like this, most people feared what they couldn't see. Amina Bello, however, only feared being caught unprepared.
She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, gripping the strap of her backpack as she darted past the shadows of shuttered shops. Her delivery run had been routine at first: medical supplies, two hospitals, no drama. But somewhere along the way, something had shifted. The usual hum of distant traffic and the faint chatter of late-night street hawkers felt… wrong.
A sleek black car slid into the alley, headlights off, the engine almost silent. Amina's breath caught. She froze, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run. But it was too late. The rear door opened, and a man stepped out first—tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, his posture radiating control and authority. And behind him, stepping into the dim streetlight, was the man she had only ever heard about in whispers.
Dante Romano.
He was real. Taller than she imagined, broad-shouldered, with dark hair slicked back and eyes that seemed to see everything at once—the kind of gaze that made you feel exposed, like your thoughts were suddenly audible. People in Lagos spoke of him in hushed tones: The Don of the Black Serpents. The man who ran the city's shadows. A figure wrapped in danger, loyalty, and unyielding power.
Now he was standing less than ten feet away, looking directly at her.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice calm but commanding, like a soft thunder that made the world pause.
"I—I'm just delivering supplies," Amina stammered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Dante's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her from head to toe. Then, unexpectedly, they softened—not entirely, but enough that she felt a strange, confusing sense of relief.
"Careful," he said. "This city isn't kind to those who wander alone."
Her legs had frozen, yet she knew she couldn't stay. She nodded quickly and turned, almost running, the sound of her shoes splashing through the shallow puddles behind her. She didn't dare look back. But she felt it—the weight of his gaze following her until the alley swallowed her figure.
By the time she reached the safety of a well-lit street, her hands were shaking, her chest aching. What had she just seen? Who was he, really? And why… why had she felt that strange, impossible pull in her chest at the sight of him?
The Aftermath
Amina didn't sleep that night. The neon glow of Lagos kept flickering behind her eyelids, dancing across the ceiling of her small bedroom like a warning she couldn't ignore. She tried to bury the encounter in her mind, telling herself it was impossible that someone like Dante Romano would ever take notice of someone like her.
But the world of the underworld doesn't work in impossibilities.
The next morning, whispers began to follow her at school. Not rumors about grades or gossip about friends, but something darker, more subtle. Hints of danger that made her heart pound in ways she didn't understand. And then, a message arrived on her phone. No name. No number. Just words:
"Be careful. The city isn't kind to those who wander alone."
Amina stared at the screen, hands trembling. Her first thought was prank. Her second thought, the one that refused to leave, was that Dante Romano knew she had been there last night.
And somehow… that realization made her pulse quicken.
The Don's Perspective
Dante Romano had not forgotten her. He rarely forgot anything that entered his world—the world of loyalty, blood, and power. But this… this was different.
He had seen her, alone and vulnerable, yet not afraid enough to run away from responsibility. Something about her presence tugged at a part of him he had long ignored. Protection. Care. Perhaps even something deeper—something he had convinced himself a Don could never feel.
But in his world, the rules were clear. You protected what mattered. You controlled the chaos around you. And now, inexplicably, Amina mattered.
Not because of her courage or youth alone—but because the city had a way of testing you. And she had passed, unknowingly, the first test: she had survived being in his world.
For Dante, it was the beginning of a conflict he didn't fully understand yet: the logic of the mafia against the pull of something human, something tender, something dangerous to his carefully constructed life.
A Glimpse of the Future
Amina's life had changed that night, though she didn't yet realize it. For every step she took, Dante watched. Every whispered word, every glance in the shadows, became part of the delicate balance of danger and protection that his world demanded.
And she, in her innocence and courage, had already stepped into the heartbeat of the underworld.
The Don, the city, and the darkness itself—all of it—would bend around her presence.
Because once she was in the world of the Black Serpents, there was no walking away.
And Dante Romano, for the first time, was ready to let someone close.