chapter two - Deadly Decision
2506 Words
***Sapphire***
She walked out of the clan gate, dragging her weak legs with every ounce of strength she had. What happened last night still felt like a nightmare, but the pain between her thighs reminded her it had all been real. She traveled through the outskirts of the clan alone, clutching her first-aid box as though it were her only weapon. Her stomach rumbled. She needed something to eat. But civilization still seemed miles away. She walked until her legs refused to obey her, her knees buckled, forcing her to stop. Turning around, she looked at the road she'd covered, the Moretti clan had disappeared into the distance. Ahead, the highway stretched endlessly, swallowed by sheets of rain and a curtain of gray clouds. "f**k this!" she cursed. For the first time in her life, she didn't know which direction led to safety. Going back to the clan meant she'd either die on the road, or by Lucifer's hands. Thunder rolled across the sky, rain began to fall, slow at first, then harder, soaking her within seconds. She didn't bother to look for shelter, there was no point, she was in the middle of nowhere. Trembling with cold, she tightened her grip on the first-aid box until her fingers ached.
It was ridiculous.
A nurse carrying medicine...
....with no one left to heal her. She looked at her phone screen, not even a call from her hospital.
She stared at the empty road, her chest tightening with every passing second. If her father hadn't walked out all those years ago, she wouldn't be dragging herself through the rain with nowhere to go, she wouldn't be surviving on a low nurse's salary that barely lasted till the end of the month.
She laughed bitterly. Some people inherited fortune. She inherited silence.
As she wallowed in anguish, a sharp vibration broke the silence.
Her phone lit up in her trembling hand.
Her breath caught.
For a split second, the crushing weight on her chest eased.
Hope flickered inside her.
Maybe...
Just maybe, someone was finally looking for her. She looked at the caller ID. It was from her hospital. Ignoring the hunger gnawing at her stomach, she hurriedly answered the call.
"Sapphire," her MD's voice came from the other end, "we got information that you left the clan eight hours ago, and you haven't reported, it's beginning to look like you don't value your job."
What?! She loved her job with her life, that was the only thing that kept her sane, all thanks to her father, that was the only thing he did for her before he left her for dead.
"it's complicated, ma'am, I'm drenched in the middle of nowhere, can you please call the driver to pick me up, I'll explain everything when I get there,"
"it'd better be considerable, or else see yourself without a job, send me your live location so we can pick you up," the call ended before she could reply, she hastily sent her location to her workplace, thoughts ran through her mind, how will she explain to her management that she accepted to drink with a ruthless man and ended up being violated without her consent?, they must not know what happened, that was her biggest secret. The distant rumble of an engine reached her ears, disrupting her thoughts.
Moments later, the hospital's white transport van emerged through the curtain of rain and rolled to a stop beside her. Before the driver could step out, Sapphire's trembling legs gave way beneath her.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the soaked ground.
"Easy, Nurse Sapphire," the driver said, helping her into the back seat. "You look like you've been through hell."
She forced a weak smile, clutching the first-aid box to her chest. "I'm fine," she lied, turning her face toward the rain-streaked window before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes.
The journey back passed in suffocating silence, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of rain against the windows. By the time the vehicle pulled into the hospital compound, Sapphire had buried every trace of her pain beneath the calm expression she wore so well. But as for Lucifer, one way or the other, he was going to pay for what he did, dead or alive.
***The Moretti clan***
Steam curled lazily through the spacious marble bathroom, softening the sharp lines of the dark room. Water cascaded from the rainfall shower in a steady rhythm, drumming against broad shoulders already marked by old scars and fresh bruises. Lucifer stood beneath it, head bowed, letting the heat wash away the blood, dust, and exhaustion that clung to him after another unforgiving night.
His fingers raked through his damp wavy hair, pushing it away from his face as droplets traced the hard planes of his jaw and disappeared over the scar that crossed the right side of his chest. He barely acknowledged it anymore. Pain had become a language he understood better than comfort.
The silence was almost unsettling.
For a man whose life was ruled by gunfire, whispered threats, and endless betrayal, these few stolen minutes beneath the shower were the closest thing he had to peace.
His amber eyes drifted shut as the water streamed over him. His thoughts, however, refused to quiet. Plans, enemies, unfinished business-they circled endlessly in his mind like vultures waiting for weakness.
Weakness....
The very thing he had sworn never to show.
With a slow exhale, he reached for the bottle of soap resting on the stone shelf, working it into a rich lather before running it across his arms and shoulders with practiced efficiency. There was nothing leisurely about the way he bathed. Every movement was precise, controlled, almost military.
When he finally turned off the water, the sudden silence settled heavily around him.
He grabbed a black towel, drying himself without haste before wrapping it securely around his waist. Another day awaited him, another war to fight, and Lucifer intended to meet it the same way he met every challenge, without mercy.
Lucifer emerged from the shower, steam trailing behind him. Minutes later, dressed in a tailored black suit with his pistol hidden beneath his jacket, he looked less like a businessman and more like death wearing expensive clothes.
Standing before the full-length mirror, Lucifer straightened the lapels with one smooth motion. His expression remained unreadable, his deep-set eyes cold enough to make seasoned killers lower their gaze.
He reached into the drawer beside the dresser and retrieved a matte-black pistol. After checking the magazine with practiced ease, he holstered it beneath his jacket where it vanished from sight. A second, smaller handgun disappeared into an ankle holster without a sound.
Finally, he sprayed a subtle but expensive woody cologne onto his neck and wrists. It wasn't meant to impress, it was simply part of the armor he wore.
With one last glance at his reflection, Lucifer walked toward the bedroom door. The calm man who had entered the shower was gone.
Now, only the devil his enemies feared remained.
"We couldn't find her, Master," Dante, one of his most loyal recruits broke the news of the disappearance of the clan's nurse to him. One of the most important rules of the Moretti clan was that you only leave by death, joining the clan means you must serve till you die, running away wasn't an option, they will chase you till the ends of the earth and end your life. That was what Nurse Theresa was about to face, she knew one of the clan's most closely guarded secrets, and betrayal is rewarded by only death, but this particular secret wasn't meant to be spilled, she was going to die.
"How many workers are in the control room?" Lucifer asked, his eyes revealing a hint of fear, clenching his fist to control his anger.
"They are all present," Dante replied, his legs trembling as he noticed his Master's change of mood, he quickly led the way and Lucifer followed swiftly behind.
The control room pulsed with quiet intensity.
A wall of high-definition monitors stretched from one end of the room to the other, each displaying live feeds from different corners of the estate-guard towers, iron gates, underground tunnels, hallways, garages, the armory, and every entrance that could be exploited by an enemy. Other screens tracked moving dots across digital maps, monitored encrypted communications, and displayed security alerts in real time.
Rows of sleek black workstations filled the room, each occupied by men and women dressed in dark tactical uniforms. Their fingers moved swiftly across illuminated keyboards while voices remained low and professional, breaking the silence only when necessary.
"North gate secure."
"Delivery convoy has cleared checkpoint three."
"Drone surveillance reports no movement beyond the eastern perimeter."
The reports flowed with mechanical precision.
One operator adjusted the zoom on a surveillance feed, following a suspicious vehicle that had slowed outside the estate before eventually driving away. Another analyst compared facial recognition data against an encrypted database, searching for any sign of an unfamiliar face. Nearby, a communications officer listened through a headset, coordinating patrol routes with the guards stationed across the compound.
No one wasted a movement.
The room functioned like the beating heart of the clan. Calm, disciplined, and relentlessly alert. Every keystroke, every radio transmission, every flicker of a monitor served one purpose: protecting the empire that Lucifer had built.
Above them, a massive digital map of the estate glowed against the far wall, marked with blinking indicators that represented patrol teams, security checkpoints, and armored vehicles. Every position updated in real time, allowing the operators to track the entire compound with unsettling accuracy.
The air carried the faint hum of powerful servers hidden behind reinforced glass, their endless processing ensuring that no camera feed froze, no alarm went unnoticed, and no breach escaped detection.
Failure wasn't an option.
Everyone in the room understood the price of negligence. A single missed detail could cost lives, compromise the clan, or provoke the wrath of the man who ruled it.
So they worked without distraction, eyes fixed on their screens, shoulders squared with discipline, while the empire remained under their unwavering watch.
"Who is in charge of the tracking device installed in Theresa?" Lucifer barked, his blood bubbling with fire. "I am the one, Master," Becky stood up, her legs almost unable to carry her, her sweat dropping rapidly on the cold tiled floor. "I'm working on it, Master, I'll find her-" before she could finish her statement, a resounding slap ran across her face which sent her rolling on the floor, Lucifer's finger marks printed boldly on her right cheek. "That woman has vital information about me, if she spills it, I'll have everything to lose, and you're telling me you let her go?" His expression hardened into a mask of cold rage, his eyes promising retribution. Becky lay voiceless, she didn't attempt to plead, it was of no use. Mercy isn't a word in the Moretti clan.
"Track her down and get her here," he ordered, making his way out of the room then he suddenly came to a halt, he slowly turned back, looking at Becky whose eyes were focused on the monitor.
"Report to the torture room the moment you find Theresa." Those words sent shivers down her spine, the torture room was where she had witnessed lots like her killed, the room was never clean, the floor soaked, and the walls painted with the blood of defaulters, she was going to be one of them, since Lucifer didn't order her execution, she prayed so hard that she will survive the excruciating pain she was going to experience.
***Sapphire***
The towering hospital stood as a symbol of hope, its gleaming glass facade reflecting the afternoon sun while patients and medical staff moved through its spotless halls with purpose. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the hushed conversations of doctors.
Dressed in her crisp nurse's uniform, Sapphire moved from one patient to another with practiced efficiency, offering gentle reassurance as she checked vital signs, administered medication, and answered worried questions. Despite the exhaustion tugging at her, compassion never left her face.
Just as she finished attending to an elderly patient, her phone vibrated in the pocket of her uniform. Pulling it out, she glanced at the screen.
Report to the administrative office immediately.
Her brows knitted slightly as curiosity flickered across her face. Slipping the phone back into her pocket, Sapphire excused herself and made her way toward the office.
"You will return to the Moretti clan tomorrow evening." the stern-faced manager said, her tone leaving no room for argument. That news hit Sapphire hard, she stared at the manager who never took her eyes off the files on her desk. She was going back to face that ruthless monster once again, the worst was yet to come.
"How lo...ng will I...I be staying?" Sapphire managed to let words out of her mouth. "Nurse Theresa is nowhere to be found," the manager said lifting her eyes for the first time. "So you are hired as their permanent nurse." That was it, she couldn't take it anymore, was she just sent to a suicide mission, Lucifer will definitely kill her if he sets his eyes on her again, besides that, she couldn't bear to look the man who took away her dignity in the eye without the urge of driving a sword through his heart, just as she opened her mouth to object, the manager cut her off. "This is the only way you can retain your job here, it's either you take it or you can start packing up your locker, you have from now till tomorrow afternoon to decide." she said, her tone clipped and decisive. Sapphire stormed out of the office, she wasn't going to do that, she'd rather quit her job, she can't stand him, not in this life, not in the next. she packed up her belongings and went to her room in the nurses lounge, wallowing in frustration on what to do next. As she lay down in deep thought, she stared at the ceiling, a wicked grin curled her lips, she knew what she was going to do. She didn't know how she would do it, but an overwhelming thirst for revenge consumed her. One thing was certain, Lucifer must pay. She picked up her phone and dialed her Manager's number. "I'll take the job..."
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