The Fall Of Scuro
775 Words
War in the underworld doesn’t begin with gunfire.
It begins with silence.
After the brothel burned, the Scuro family did not retaliate. No late-night attacks, no dead bodies dumped on De Rossi turf. Just… stillness. And that silence was more dangerous than bullets.
Luca paced in the war room like a lion sensing a storm. Ivy watched him, arms crossed, mind racing.
“They’re planning something,” he said. “They’re not the type to lick wounds. They’re the type to wait until your back is turned.”
“You think they’ll go after you?” Ivy asked.
Luca stopped. His dark eyes met hers. “No. They’ll go after you.”
It made sense. She was the variable, the unknown. The queen was newly crowned and freshly feared. The Scuros would test her resolve, and if they could crack her, they’d unseat the De Rossis from within.
“They’ll make it personal,” Luca added. “They’ll come for your past, your people, your name.”
“I don’t have people anymore,” Ivy said. “And the past? It already died.”
But she knew better than to believe the past stayed buried.
That afternoon, Ivy received an envelope. No return address. Just a red wax seal pressed with a snake’s head. Inside was a photograph. Blurry, taken from a distance. It showed her foster sister, Elise—alive and well, working in a bookstore back in Rome. Ivy hadn’t seen her in years.
Written across the photo in ink:
Still think you're alone?
Her stomach twisted.
“They found her,” she whispered.
Luca read the message, then crushed the paper in his hand. “They want to draw you out. Makes you emotional. Reckless.”
“They won’t get that,” Ivy said, already pulling on her coat. “They want me distracted. I’ll give them a warning instead.”
Luca stepped in her path. “You’re not going alone.”
“Then come with me.”
He paused, considering. “We leave in an hour.”
They took two cars, heavily armed. Luca didn’t take chances, not with this. Rome wasn’t De Rossi territory anymore—it was neutral, leaning toward Scuro's influence. They kept low profiles, moving through side streets, and switching plates on the way. Ivy hated every second of being watched, of feeling exposed. But Elise’s safety came first.
When they reached the bookstore, Elise was behind the counter, unaware that her life had become a bargaining chip.
Ivy walked in alone.
Elise looked up, confused. Then her eyes widened in recognition.
“Ivy?” she breathed.
It felt like a lifetime passed between them.
“Elise, you have to leave,” Ivy said quickly. “Now. Pack your things. Don’t ask questions.”
“What’s going on?”
“You’re being used. You’re in danger because of me. I can’t explain it here. Just trust me.”
But Elise had always been stubborn. She wanted answers. She wanted to know why Ivy had disappeared, why her letters were never returned. And Ivy, despite everything, broke.
“They own Florence. They own me,” she confessed. “I married a man who kills to protect his empire. I’ve killed, Elise. And they’ll kill you too, just to hurt me.”
Elise went pale. But she nodded.
They left through the back, Luca waiting near the alley. His men swept the area. And just in time.
A black sedan pulled up across the street. Four men inside. Watching.
“They’re here,” Luca growled.
“Let them see me,” Ivy said. “Let them know they missed their shot.”
She stepped out, hand on her holstered weapon. The sun lit her face like a spotlight. And for one breathless moment, Ivy stared down the barrel of a message from the Scuro family.
But the car didn’t move. The men inside just watched.
And then, it rolled away.
A warning. A bluff. Or a future promise.
That night, Elise was relocated under De Rossi's protection. Ivy sat by the window of their Florence estate, staring into the darkness.
“You protected her,” Luca said.
“I endangered her by existing,” Ivy whispered.
“No,” he said, kneeling beside her. “You reminded them that your past is protected. That you are protected.”
“They’ll come again.”
Luca didn’t deny it. “Let them. They forget who they’re dealing with.”
His fingers found hers, lacing them together. Not tender. Not romantic. Tactical. Tethered.
Outside, a storm rolled in over Florence. Ivy welcomed the thunder.
She was no longer afraid of the dark.
- Writer
