Before Kyan could reach the lower deck where the prisoners were kept—where his papa was locked away—he tiptoed quietly through the hall, careful not to make a sound. His heart was racing, every step slow and silent.
But just as he turned the corner, loud boots came pounding against the floor.
"Boss!" a guard yelled, out of breath. "There are assassins outside the cruise ship! They're firing! It's the Massimo family!"
Kyan froze.
His eyes widened—but instead of fear, there was a glimmer of hope.
Papa's crew. They came.
Even if Kyan didn't make it out, maybe Papa would. Maybe that wicked, bad, tattooed, entitled Nico would finally lose.
"What?" Nico's deep voice growled from the other end of the hallway. "Everyone get to your posts! Lock down the ship! Protect the guests!"
He barked orders like he owned the ocean. The men scattered, loading their weapons, pulling out radios, running to their positions like it was a war zone.
And then—
Darkness.
The entire ship went dead. Lights out. Total blackout.
Kyan's breath hitched.
This just got real.
He was scared of the dark.
He hated to admit it—but he was.
Ever since that night, years ago, when his grandma looked him dead in the eye and said,
"The shadows follow you. You were born during an eclipse. The dark knows you. It sees you—even when no one else does."
He had laughed it off then. He was just a kid. She was old, tired, maybe confused.
But that night, when the lights went out during a storm and he swore he heard whispers behind his bedroom door…
When his closet creaked open on its own…
When the mirror in his room fogged up and a handprint appeared, but he hadn't moved…
He never laughed about the dark again.
Since then, he always left a light on. Just in case the shadows came looking.
Kyan dropped to the floor, his hands flying to his ears as the gunshots outside got louder.
He couldn't breathe. His chest felt like it was caving in. The walls were spinning. His vision blurred.
He rocked back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut.
He hated this. The noise. The fear. The dark.
His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. He couldn't stop shaking.
"Make it stop…" he whispered, barely able to hear himself. "Please…"
The sound outside was deafening now. Glass breaking. People screaming.
He clenched his jaw, tears running down his face. He was scared. More scared than he'd ever been.
With a choked breath, he pressed his forehead to his knees and muttered, "Hope you get safe, Papa…"
Then—
BANG.
The sound cracked through the air like thunder.
And everything went still.
A guard's voice echoed through the chaos, sharp and urgent.
"Everyone! Move to the second ship! Now! We sail in five!"
People started running—some barefoot, some clutching kids, some not even sure where they were going. Panic was everywhere. The night air smelled like smoke and saltwater.
But Kyan couldn't move.
He was still on the ground, curled up, breathing hard. His ears rang. His body felt like it weighed a thousand bricks.
Someone stepped over him, didn't even notice him there.
He tried to push himself up—his arms shook. His legs wouldn't listen.
The ship's horn blared in the distance.
"Hey softie!" a voice called—but it was drowned out by another gunshot.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Everything hurt.
They were leaving.
And he was too weak to go.
Strong arms scooped Kyan off the ground like he weighed nothing.
Warm solid and inked with black tattoos that danced along veined muscles.
Kyan blinked through the blur, his breath hitching—
Boss.
His heart twisted. The panic didn't stop, but something inside him slowed just a little.
"I—I thought you left…" Kyan choked out, gripping Nico's shirt. "Don't leave me, Boss… I'm scared of the dark."
Nico looked down at him, one brow raised, a slow smirk pulling at his lips.
"I hate softies," he muttered, carrying him like a damn hero out of a nightmare. "But your eyes? They're kinda pretty when you're scared."
Kyan didn't know if he should cry harder or laugh.
But right then, wrapped in tattooed arms, gunshots fading behind them and the sea ahead—He knew this might be the last he sees his papa.
Nico stomped up the ramp and without warning, tossed Kyan onto the ship's deck like a sack of feathers.
"Get a damn doctor to check this softie!" he barked at a guard nearby. "Make sure he's breathing and not just crying."
Kyan groaned, clutching his ribs, but he was safe. Sort of.
A uniformed guard nodded and ran off.
Before Nico could catch a breath, a bodyguard in black stormed up to him, chest heaving, blood on his sleeve.
"Boss!" the guard said, his voice tight. "Massimo escaped the damn cruise ship. Killed five of our men. Just vanished."
Nico's jaw clenched. Hard.
Nico's eyes darkened, jaw ticking as he turned to the guard.
"They're playing with fire," he said, voice low but sharp enough to cut. "And I swear—I won't spare a single Massimo I see."
His fists clenched. His tattoos seemed to stretch tighter over his arms.
The air felt heavy.
He looked out at the open sea, then back at his men.
"We're not running," he said. "We sail straight to the Mafia Kingdom."
Everyone stiffened. No one dared speak.
Because when Nico said those words…
It meant war.
Long ago, the Massimos and the Lucianos were never meant to mix.
They were rivals. Enemies by blood.
But then—like in every tragedy—a Massimo man fell in love with a Luciano woman. And that changed everything.
Their love was real, wild, and kept in the shadows. But love wasn't enough. It was forbidden. The families found out.
And war broke out.
Gunfire. Betrayal. Blood spilled on marble floors.
Nico's grandfather—Don Luciano—was caught in the crossfire. Shot five times. He died clutching the Luciano crest in his hand, refusing to surrender.
Since then, one rule had been carved deep in both families:
Never love the enemy.
It was more than just forbidden...