Chapter 3 : The Devil Is here

"Oh my God." The words slipped from my lips as my vision blurred with tears. My hands trembled as I pressed them against Maria’s wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. "Stay with me, Maria. Please!"

Maria’s fingers weakly gripped my wrist. "No, Diana… You need to… run."

"No, I won’t leave you!" My voice cracked, my chest tightening.

Maria’s breathing was growing more ragged. "If you stay… you’ll get killed… run—"

But before I could respond, a voice cut through the air behind me.

"It’s too late, Miss Diana."

A cold wave of fear crashed over me.

Slowly, I turned.

And then—I stopped breathing.

A long gun was pointed directly at me.

Holding it was Franco.

"Franco?" My voice barely came out. My mind struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. "Why are you doing this?"

Franco’s expression was unreadable, his grip firm on the weapon.

"Just tell me what you want!" My voice broke as I gestured to Maria, her frail body struggling for breath. "She didn’t do anything wrong!"

Franco’s jaw tightened.

"I’m just following orders, Miss Diana."

Franco’s grip on the gun tightened, his dark eyes unreadable. He took a slow step forward, pressing the barrel against my forehead.

"No witnesses," he muttered, voice cold. "No one in the D’Angelo family left alive."

My breath hitched.

"Franco, please… we’ve known you since we were kids. How could you do this to us?" My voice cracked, desperate.

Franco’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes didn’t waver. His finger moved to the trigger.

But before he could pull it….

"I told you to stay outside." That voice.

My entire body froze.

I turned my head slowly, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would rip out of my chest.

"Enzo!"

He stood there, his black mask still on, but his eyes—dark, piercing—burned into mine.

Tears welled in my eyes.

"Why?" I choked out.

Enzo took a step closer, his gaze never leaving me.

"Why?" he echoed, his voice sharp, filled with something terrifying. "You know what your father did to me."

Enzo took a slow step forward, his presence swallowing the room. His eyes—dark, unrelenting—held mine in a way that made my blood run cold.

"My family. My people." His voice was razor-sharp, filled with something I couldn’t recognize. "It’s tradition for the Big Four—"

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "To take over after killing the head of the family—"

Enzo cut me off.

"Yes. But not to massacre everyone like your father did to my family."

I shook my head, tears blurring my vision.

"Andreas D’Angelo murdered my entire family, Diana. My parents, my cousins, my little sister."

A sharp sob escaped my lips.

"Enzo, I—I'm sorry. I don’t...."

His expression darkened as he cut me off again.

"Do not apologize to me." His voice was ice. "Not you."

My chest tightened, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I took a step closer, my hands trembling.

"Then kill me." My voice cracked as I stared into his unreadable eyes. "If vengeance is what you want, Enzo… then just kill me."

Enzo’s hand shot out, gripping my jaw so tightly that I could barely breathe. His fingers dug into my skin, his touch cold and unforgiving.

"You know nothing of vengeance, princess." His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of every unsaid horror. "You think your father let me live out of mercy?" He let out a bitter laugh. "No."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Enzo, please," I choked out, my voice breaking. "I'm begging you."

Enzo leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, each word cutting deeper than a blade.

"I begged too." His grip tightened, forcing me to look into the endless darkness of his eyes. "I knelt in front of that heartless monster you call Papa. And I begged him to take my life."

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

"You know what he said to me?" Enzo's voice turned hollow, empty.

He let go of my face, but his gaze never wavered.

"‘You don’t get to rest in a grave until I’ve had my fun with you.’"

The air between us was suffocating. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.

Behind him, Franco shifted slightly.

"What now, boss?" Franco asked, his voice steady, waiting.

Enzo didn’t look at me when he spoke. “Burn the bodies.” His voice was cold, detached, like this massacre was just another day in his life.

Franco nodded and moved to carry out the order, but Enzo stopped him. “Check if Maria is still alive.”

Franco crouched beside Maria, pressing two fingers to her neck. “She’s still breathing.”

I gasped in relief, but it was short-lived when Franco looked at Enzo. “You want me to—”

“No, no, no.” Enzo waved a hand. His expression softened, just slightly. “She’s done nothing wrong. Take her in for medical attention.”

I clung to that small mercy, but it didn’t change what had just happened—what he had done.

“And me, Enzo?” My voice cracked. “What did I do to you?”

His dark eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, merciless.

“You’re a D’Angelo.”

My stomach twisted. My heart shattered.

“So I was right,” I whispered. “That’s all I’ll ever be to you. Even though I loved you.”

Enzo sighed, stepping closer. His hand brushed through my hair, almost gently, almost like he was still the boy I once knew. “Shh.”

Then his fingers tightened ever so slightly.

“Where’s your brother?” His voice was like silk laced with poison. “Hmm? He lands later tonight, doesn’t he?”

Panic surged through me.

“Don’t touch Dante!” I hissed, trying to pull away, but Enzo didn’t let me go. His grip stayed firm, his eyes watching me carefully, calculating.

Enzo smirked, completely unfazed by the chaos around us. He turned to Franco. “Station a few men here. I want eyes on the entire perimeter. When Dante arrives…” He trailed off, his smirk widening. “I’ll have a little welcome home gift for him.”

No. No. No.

I couldn’t let this happen. My body trembled, my mind screamed at me to run, to fight. My fingers curled around something sharp—the jagged edge of broken glass from one of the shattered cups on the floor.

With all the rage and desperation burning inside me, I struck.

The glass sliced across Enzo’s neck.

Not deep enough to kill, but enough to make him bleed.

The room went still.

Franco reached for his gun, but Enzo held up a hand to stop him. He exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers to the cut. Dark red smeared across his skin.

Then, to my horror, he dragged his bloodstained fingers over my lips.

“An eye for an eye, my dear Diana.” His voice was low, dangerous. “You’re going to pray to be dead, just like I do.”

I gasped, trying to wipe the blood away, but hands were already on me. Strong. Ruthless.

“Let me go!” I thrashed, but it was useless.

“Get over here.”