QUEEN 👑 OF THE UNDERWORLD

CHAPTER 1: THE NIGHT POWER FELL I used to believe my father was untouchable. In my world, he wasn’t just a man, he was authority, fear, and control woven into one name that people didn’t dare speak carelessly. When he entered a room, conversations died, eyes dropped, and even the most powerful men straightened their shoulders. To the outside world, he was a king in the shadows. To me, he was simply Papa, the man who taught me how to read danger in silence, who warned me that trust was a luxury we could never afford, and who promised me that no matter how dark the world became, I would always be safe. That promise died the night he did, and I was there to watch it happen, hidden just enough to survive but close enough to never forget. The first gunshot didn’t make me scream. That’s the part that still haunts me the most. I was standing halfway down the grand staircase when the sound echoed through the mansion, sharp and unnatural, cutting through the quiet like a blade. My fingers tightened around the railing as my heart began to pound, slow at first, then faster, heavier. I told myself it was nothing, security, an accident, anything but what my instincts were already whispering. Then the second shot followed. And the third. The silence that came after felt wrong, too heavy, like the entire house was holding its breath. That was when I knew something had changed, something irreversible, and without thinking, I started moving toward the only place those shots could have come from, my father’s study. I didn’t remember deciding to go there. My body simply moved, step by step, my breathing shallow, my mind struggling to keep up with the fear building inside me. The hallway seemed longer than usual, darker, like the walls themselves were closing in. When I reached the door, it was slightly open, just enough for me to see inside if I leaned closer. Every instinct told me to walk away, to run, to pretend I had heard nothing, but I didn’t listen. I looked. And in that moment, my entire world shattered without making a sound. My father was on the floor, his body slumped against the edge of his desk, blood spreading beneath him in a dark, endless pool that stained the polished marble. For a second, my mind refused to accept it. He wasn’t supposed to look like that. He wasn’t supposed to be weak. But there he was, struggling to breathe, each inhale uneven and fragile. And standing over him was Marco. The man my father trusted most. The man who had been part of our lives for years. The man who was supposed to protect him. He held the gun with steady hands, his expression calm, almost detached, as if this was just another task to complete. “You should have stepped down,” he said quietly, his voice carrying no anger, only certainty. My father tried to respond, his lips moving, but no words came out. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them, betrayal, regret, finality. Then Marco pulled the trigger again. I didn’t feel my heart break. I felt it stop. Everything inside me went cold as I stepped back from the door, my body trembling but my mind strangely clear. If I stayed there, I would die too. That truth settled into me instantly, sharp and undeniable. In our world, there were no witnesses, no loose ends, and I was both. I turned and ran, my feet moving faster than my thoughts, my breathing quick and shallow as I fled the scene that would haunt me for the rest of my life. The mansion that had once felt like a fortress now felt like a cage, every hallway a trap, every shadow hiding danger. I burst through the back door into the night, the rain hitting me immediately, cold and relentless as it soaked through my clothes. I didn’t slow down. I ran across the wide grounds toward the gates, my heart pounding wildly as desperation took over. “Open the gate!” I shouted, grabbing the iron bars and shaking them with all the strength I had left. But nothing happened. No guards came running. No one answered. The gate remained locked, silent, and unforgiving. Panic rose in my chest, threatening to consume me, but I forced myself to breathe, to think. That was when I heard the footsteps behind me, slow, steady, controlled. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Marco stood a few steps away, the rain sliding off his coat, his expression as composed as ever. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said calmly, as if we were discussing something trivial. I turned to face him, my body tense but my voice steady. “You killed him.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t treat it like one. “I did what was necessary,” he replied. The words hit harder than the gunshots. Necessary. As if my father’s life had been nothing more than an obstacle. “He trusted you,” I said quietly. Marco’s lips curved slightly. “That was his mistake.” Something inside me shifted then, something darker than fear. “And me?” I asked. “What happens to me?” His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he answered. “You’re a risk.” That was all I was now. Not family. Not human. Just a problem to eliminate. “I won’t interfere,” I said quickly, even though the words tasted like lies. “I don’t want anything from you.” But Marco shook his head slowly. “I don’t leave loose ends.” The order came without hesitation. “Take her.” Two men appeared instantly, grabbing my arms before I could react. I struggled, twisting and kicking, but their grip was too strong. “Let me go!” I snapped, my composure cracking as they dragged me toward a waiting car. Marco watched silently, unaffected. “You should have stayed hidden,” he said. “You might have lived longer.” That was the moment the fear stopped controlling me. It didn’t disappear, but it was replaced by something stronger, anger. As they pulled me closer to the car, I acted on instinct, biting one of the men hard enough to make him cry out. His grip loosened, and I drove my elbow into the other, breaking free. I didn’t hesitate. I ran. Gunshots rang out behind me, loud and violent, bullets tearing through the air as I sprinted into the darkness. My lungs burned, my legs screamed, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Survival was the only thing that mattered now. I ran until the mansion disappeared behind me, until the lights faded, until my body finally gave out. I stumbled into a narrow alley, collapsing against the wall as my chest heaved and my entire body shook. Rain continued to fall, mixing with the dirt and blood on my skin, washing nothing away. My father was gone. My home was gone. Everything I knew had been ripped away in a matter of minutes, and I was alone in a world that wanted me dead. “You’re still alive.” The voice came from the shadows, calm and observant, and my head snapped up instantly. A man stood at the entrance of the alley, tall and still, watching me as if he had been there the entire time. I hadn’t heard him approach. That alone made him dangerous. “Who are you?” I asked, forcing myself to stand despite the weakness in my body. He stepped forward slowly, his features coming into view, sharp, controlled, unreadable. “Someone who saw what happened tonight,” he replied. My stomach tightened. “Then you know I don’t have time for games.” “No,” he said. “You don’t.” Silence settled between us as I studied him carefully. “Are you here to kill me?” I asked. His lips curved slightly. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing.” I believed him. That didn’t make him safe. “Then what do you want?” He looked at me with something close to curiosity. “To see what you’ll do next,” he said. I frowned. “Most people would run,” he continued. “Disappear. Try to survive.” I held his gaze, my voice steady. “I don’t want to survive.” Something shifted in his expression. “What do you want then?” he asked. I didn’t hesitate. “Revenge.” The word felt right, heavy and certain. He studied me for a long moment before extending his hand. “Revenge without power is suicide,” he said. “I can teach you how to take that power.” I stared at his hand, knowing this was the moment everything would change. “Why help me?” I asked. His answer was simple. “Because I don’t like traitors.” I searched his face one last time, then placed my hand in his. His grip was firm, unyielding. “Then teach me,” I said quietly. “Teach me how to destroy him.” His eyes darkened slightly. “This world doesn’t make queens,” he said. “It breaks them.” I didn’t pull away. “Then I’ll break it first.” For the first time, he smiled, and in that moment, Alessia Romano died. What rose in her place was something far more dangerous. Something the underworld would soon learn to fear.