The dungeon was quiet.
Kyan sat in the cold, dark cell, his hands numb from the tight cuffs. His lips were dry, heart pounding so loud it felt like the walls could hear it.
Then—
Clank.
The sound of keys.
His body stiffened.
Boots echoed down the stone steps, slowly.
A guard appeared, tall, bulky, and dressed in all black. He didn't say much. Just stared at Kyan for a moment like he was already a ghost.
Then, in a voice low and cold, he said, "It's time."
Kyan's stomach dropped.
His legs refused to move at first, but the guard yanked him up by the arm.
"No more talking. Let's go."
They walked through the narrow hallway. Every step echoed like a countdown. The torches on the walls shone, casting creepy shadows.
The air was thick, and it felt like the walls were closing in.
Kyan's mind raced.
Was this really how it ended?
Just like that?
No goodbye… no chance to explain?
They stopped at a thick metal door.
Kyan could hear voices on the other side.
Laughing.
Waiting.
The guard pulled open the door and pushed Kyan forward.
"Face your fate, softie," he whispered.
And just like that, Kyan stepped into whatever was waiting for him…
Kyan's legs nearly gave out as he stepped into the room.
The Luciano brothers were already there—lined up like judges, all dressed in black suits, their faces blank, cold, dangerous.
Nico wasn't among them.
He looked around, but no one said anything for a while. Just silence.
Then one of them stepped forward, dark shades on even though they were indoors.
"Since you like cooking so much…" he said, voice smooth and deadly, "we were thinking maybe we roast you alive."
Kyan's eyes widened.
Another brother laughed darkly. "Or we tie you to the back of a speeding car and let the gravel decide."
"Poison him with what he served us," someone else said. "Make him eat the same meal. Let's see how he likes the taste of death."
Kyan's breath hitched. He couldn't even swallow.
A taller one stepped closer, smirking like this was all a game. "Nah. Let's hang him upside down for days. Strip him of his pride, make him beg."
Then another voice from the corner, calm but cruel, "I say we blindfold him and play a shooting game. One bullet, ten guns. Let luck decide."
The youngest one leaned on the wall, chewing gum like this was fun. "Or push him into the beast pit. If the dogs don't eat him in five seconds, he walks."
Kyan shook his head slowly, mouth dry. "I didn't poison anyone… I swear."
They all ignored him.
"You get to pick, chef," one said with a dark grin. "How do you want to go?"
The room spun.
Kyan's blood ran cold.
The room fell quiet again.
Then came the slow tap of a cane.
The Don.
Old but terrifying. His eyes were sharper than any knife in the house.
He stepped forward, looked at Kyan like he was dirt under his shoe, then turned to the brothers.
"I have a better idea," he said, voice calm but icy. "Nico is now the King of the Mafia world."
Everyone nodded with pride.
"He has to prove his loyalty to the blood. His first kill, his first order, his first step into darkness…" The Don paused and looked straight at Kyan. "Let it be him."
A few brothers chuckled in agreement.
"He poisoned our table," the Don added, still calm. "Let Nico cleanse it."
Kyan's heart dropped.
No. No.
He couldn't breathe. Not Nico. Not the one who'd protected him at the docks. Not the one who always showed up right before he broke.
Another brother said, "Fitting. Your death will crown a king."
Kyan's lips trembled. He looked at the door.
What if Nico walked in?
What if he actually pulled the trigger?
He swallowed hard, frozen in fear.
This was real. Too real.
This is all my fault… Kyan thought, heart pounding in his chest. I should never have used that cursed stone. Look at what I've caused.
He didn't fight back when the guards grabbed him roughly.
One of them tied his hands. The other pulled a blindfold over his eyes.
Darkness. Just darkness.
He felt the heavy silence around him. The cold air. The heat of panic building in his throat.
Then he heard it—boots crunching against gravel. Guns being loaded. Laughter. Whispers.
This is it… I'm really going to die.
His knees felt weak. His lips trembled.
He wanted to scream, cry, beg—
But what was the point?
The world had already turned its back on him.
They dragged Kyan out, his blindfold still on, hands tied behind him. He stumbled as they forced him forward, feet scraping the gravel path.
The wind bit at his skin, carrying whispers from the crowd that had gathered to watch—hundreds of Lucianos. Silent. Dressed in black. Watching like wolves.
Then—he was pushed hard against something rough.
A tree.
The rope tightened around his chest, pulling him back so he couldn't move. Couldn't even breathe right.
He heard one of the guards near him mutter, almost under his breath, "You're not the first, you know…"
Kyan turned his head slightly, lips trembling. The guard kept his voice low. "That tree… it's seen a lot of blood. Men who betrayed. Women who stole. A kid once—he just lied to the Don. Boom. Gone."
Kyan's breath caught.
"Last month," the guard went on, voice calm like he was talking about the weather, "a cook mixed salt with sugar. They hung him upside down for two days. Fed him to the dogs after. Whole family, too."
The guard looked at him finally. "This place… it doesn't forgive. Doesn't forget."
He gave a small shrug, like it wasn't personal. "I hope you're innocent, softie. But around here, being innocent doesn't always save you."
And just like that, the guard stepped back.
The wind grew colder. The crowd went quiet.
And Kyan's heart dropped to the ground.
The cheering started slow. A few claps. Then louder. Wild. Like wolves howling at the moon.
Kyan could barely see through the blindfold, but he could hear it—the heavy footsteps. The excitement in the air. Something was coming. No… someone.
Nico.
The Don handed him the gun like it was a gift. The silver spark of it gleamed under the sharp afternoon sun. The whole Luciano world stood, clapping, chanting.
"Nico! Nico! Nico!"
He didn't say a word. Just stared at Kyan, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
Kyan's heart thudded painfully.
This was it.
The Don raised his glass.
"Let this be Nico's first blood as King."
The cheering exploded again.
Nico took one slow step forward, the gun still in his hand, pointed low.
Kyan's breath caught.