The dimly lit room reeked of incense and exotic herbs. Flickering candles cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, their weak glow barely pushing back the darkness. Thin plumes of smoke curled lazily into the air, wrapping the space in an eerie, suffocating atmosphere.
For years, it had been ignored.
What started as a minor sickness had grown into something far worse.
Pneumonic plague.
Don Alessandro lay on the bed, his once-powerful body now frail and broken. The feared crime lord, a man who once commanded respect with a single glance, was now reduced to violent coughing fits—blood staining his lips as his lungs slowly gave out.
The heavy doors burst open.
Ryan stormed in, his presence filling the room instantly. His sharp eyes burned with a mix of fury and fear as they landed on his father's weakened form.
"How did this happen?" he demanded, his voice cold but edged with something deeper.
The doctor hesitated before speaking in a low tone.
"He was exposed to an infected flea… The infection spread too quickly. I'm afraid… it's too late."
Silence.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to stop.
Then Ryan's expression hardened. His eyes turned to ice.
"Find the best doctors," he said flatly. "I don't care what it costs. Save him."
No one dared to argue.
Since Don Alessandro's condition worsened, Ryan had already begun taking control of the organization. The throne wasn't his yet—but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.
The door creaked open again.
Lucas stepped in, a faint smirk on his face
Ryan raised a brow, signaling him to continue.
"I tracked the Russian bastard," Lucas said. "He's at your club."
A dangerous silence followed.
Peter stepped forward. "Should we make a move now?"
Ryan stood up slowly, his aura shifting—cold, lethal.
"Yes."
That single word sealed it.
Without another glance, he walked out, Lucas and Peter following close behind.
The mission was clean.
Efficient.
Successful.
Now, Ryan stood alone on the rooftop of the club, the city lights stretching endlessly beneath him. The wind brushed against his face, but his mind was elsewhere.
His phone rang.
He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then answered.
"Ryan! How could you?!" Arabella's voice exploded through the speaker. "It's your birthday and you partied without me? I thought we were a team! You didn't even bother texting me!"
Ryan let out a quiet breath, unimpressed.
"Oh, come on," he said dryly. "I'm so sorry, love. Didn't realize my birthday was a solo event. Guess I'll just add breathing to the list of things I do without you."
Click.
He hung up.
The phone started ringing again almost immediately.
Ryan stared at it for a second… then smirked and slipped it back into his pocket, letting it go to voicemail.
Silence returned.
As he stood there on the rooftop, his thoughts drifted—
To her.
Elena.
The girl next door.
No… not a girl anymore.
Now, she was something else entirely.
A stunning woman… with piercing eyes that held secrets he wasn't sure he was ready to uncover.