Fragile Heat, Dark Deception

Chapter 5

Smoke curled through the air, thick and bitter, clinging to the walls like a curse. On the table lay their whiskey glasses, half-empty, forgotten, while the faint glow of cigarettes burned like dying stars in the hands of Marco and Alessandro.

Marco lounged back, eyes hooded, his cigarette dangling between two fingers, as if time itself bored him. Alessandro sat opposite, smoke slipping from his lips in lazy spirals, his face half-hidden in the gloom. Between them, Lucca, the quietest of the three, swirled his glass, the clink of ice the only sound he made.

The door opened with a groan, and Alessandro’s secretary entered, head bowed low.

“Sir,” his voice steady, like this was just another ordinary matter. To him, even ruin and blood were ordinary matters. “The girl… she’s alive. But bruised badly. Internal bleeding forced the doctors to admit her. Her family tried to file charges, but the hospital and police have been paid. Nothing will touch you.”

Alessandro stubbed out his cigarette against the crystal ashtray, the ember dying with a hiss. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low, almost amused. “You can leave for today.”

“Thank you, Sir.” The man bowed and retreated, shutting the door behind him. The faint click echoed like the sealing of a coffin.

One thing Alessandro admired about his secretary was that the man was never careless with his promises. He was a man of his word, unyielding, precise. It didn’t matter if the task was as simple as arranging a meeting or as bloody as silencing a witness. He never hesitated, never asked questions. He just did the work, clean and final. Alessandro trusted this one man to carry out even the darkest of orders without flinching.

Lucca set his glass down with a dull thud. “You need to control yourself, Alessandro.”

Alessandro’s lips twitched into a smirk, cruel and mocking.

“I already have control,” he drawled.

Marco let out a dark chuckle, tilting his head back to exhale a ghostly cloud toward the ceiling. “Control? The girl was bleeding out under you. If we hadn’t stepped in, you’d have killed her.”

Alessandro’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his smirk widening as if the thought delighted him.

“Then maybe she should’ve died. Some things aren’t meant to survive me.”

Lucca sighed, his patience thinning. “Alessandro…”

Alessandro tilted his head, lips curving into a dark smirk as if Lucca’s concern amused him. He lifted his hands lazily in mock surrender, cigarette balanced between his fingers. “Yes, Sir.”

Marco burst into laughter, shaking his head as he set his glass down. “God.”

The two of them shared a glance, their laughter feeding off one another. They didn’t need to explain the joke. They all knew.

Sir. That was the only word Lucca allowed from the women he took. No names, no tenderness, no heat. Just that cold, sterile word. His rules were simple: no feeling, no affection, no attachment.

Marco's eyes glinting with mockery, his grin sharp enough to cut. “No wonder they never last. Respect and rules, that’s all you give them. Boring as hell.”

Lucca just shook his head, exhaling slowly through his nose. His voice dropped, low and firm, slicing through their laughter.

“I am serious, Alessandro. Stop raping women.”

The amusement drained from the air for a moment, like a candle snuffed out. Alessandro’s smirk faltered, though only for a breath, before he leaned back in his chair, cigarette dangling carelessly between his fingers.

Marco’s grin lingered, but thinner now, a glint of unease flickering beneath it.

Then, slowly, Alessandro huffed a laugh, low and sharp. “You always did like pretending you were the saint among devils.” His tone dripped with mockery, but there was an edge under it, an irritation at being told what to do.

Marco’s fingers drummed against the table, his grin gone. He glanced between them, sensing the storm.

Alessandro lifted his glass and took a slow sip, but his dark eyes never left Lucca. “You think one order from you changes what I am? Women break, Lucca. That’s what they do.”

Lucca’s voice dropped, calm but steady, his words carrying quiet weight. “The irony of it, Alessandro. Even knowing what happened to Vanisha… you of all men should be the last to take a woman against her will. You’re anything but a rapist, that much I know. If you truly want to mend the past, then hunt the ones who did that to her. Don’t become like them.”

At her name, Alessandro went utterly still. The lazy smirk drained from his face as if carved away, and even the cigarette between his fingers paused midair. Marco shifted uncomfortably, recognizing the shift but saying nothing.

For a moment, Alessandro said nothing, just stared at Lucca, his gaze hard and unreadable. Then, slowly, he set the cigarette down and leaned forward, his voice quiet, edged with something darker than his usual mockery.

“You really think I’m sitting here idle, Lucca?” Alessandro’s words came out low, deliberate. “You don’t know what’s moving beneath all this calm.” His jaw flexed, eyes burning as he held Lucca’s steady. “Don’t mistake my silence for nothing.”

A bitter laugh slipped from Marco before it twisted into a hiss. His glass forgotten, his voice sharp with an edge to craziness. “Until when, Alessandro? How long are we supposed to wait?” His eyes were pitch black, fevered with rage as they burned into his cousin. “What kind of power do we boast of when we can’t even uncover who helped our enemies slaughter our sister?”

“This Friday is Vanisha’s birthday,” Alessandro said, his voice low, deliberate, almost reverent. “And Suleman is coming to fulfill his vow. I swear to you both, we will begin that very day.”

His eyes locked on Lucca first, then Marco, as if binding them to his oath.

Lucca leaned back slowly, his gaze unreadable. The firelight caught the sharp lines of his face, but no emotion slipped past his mask. He didn’t question, didn’t challenge.

Marco, however, was already trembling with restless energy. His fists clenched against the table, knuckles whitening. A wild grin broke across his face, sharp and dangerous. “Finally,” he hissed, his voice almost a growl. “No more waiting. No more silence. Blood for blood.”

Lucca exhaled the faintest sigh, and spoke at last. “Just make sure when it begins, Alessandro… it doesn’t consume us too.”

....................................................................................

(Past)

The Villarreal mansion was unusually quiet that night. Their parents were away on another business trip, leaving only the siblings in the vast halls of marble and silence. Vanisha moved down the staircase, her light steps almost floating, her school bag slung across her back in a way that didn’t quite fit the innocence of her smile.

“Where do you think you’re going this late?” Alessandro’s voice cut through the hush before she could reach the door. He stood by the railing, broad-shouldered and watchful. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, softened only when they fell on her.

Vanisha turned, biting her lip with a sheepish grin. “The public library. I need to return some books. Besides… there’s something I need to read for my class project.”

“At night?” Alessandro descended the stairs, each step carrying a thread of suspicion. “You think I’ll let you wander around the city this time?” His protective nature wasn’t just a habit; it was instinct. She was untouched by the sins of their world, and he meant to keep her that way. “You can go tomorrow. Tell me the books, I’ll have them delivered...”

“No, no!” she cut in, quickly shaking her head, her hair spilling like black silk around her shoulders. “It’s important. Please, brother… just tonight. I’ll have the guards wait outside. I’ll be fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Vanisha…”

She smiled then, coaxing, tilting her face up at him with that disarming sweetness only she could wield. Wrapping her arms around his rigid frame, she whispered, “You’re too protective, Ale. I promise I’ll only be gone for a little while. You can even make the guards wait until I come out.”

Her eyes glistened with mischief, though she masked it behind a childlike pout. “And it’s my birthday too. Mama and Papa aren’t even here. I just want to be… a little in the library. That’s all. Can you do that for me, please? It’s my birthday gift.”

He studied her, jaw clenched. She was the last pure thing in their blood-soaked dynasty, and he hated the thought of her, even brushing shoulders with danger. But her persistence, her sweetness, always knowing how to coax him, broke his walls piece by piece.

With a long sigh, he pressed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Midnight. Not a second later. You call me if anything feels wrong, Vanisha. Anything.”

Her face lit up, the smile wide and innocent. She kissed his cheek quickly, murmuring, “You’re the best, Ale.”

As she was about to slip out of the house, Marco stepped inside, making her groan.

“Hey, where you going, short legs?” he asked, blocking her way with a smirk.

“Library,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Marco’s gaze shifted upward. “Alessandro, you’re letting her out at this time?” he asked, watching Alessandro, who was still standing on the staircase, arms crossed over his chest like a watchful hawk.

“Yes, I am going,” Vanisha cut in quickly, her voice bold with pride. “And it’s my birthday too, so I get to do whatever I want today. Hmph!” She lifted her chin as though daring either of them to argue.

“Oh no, short legs, you don’t get to,” Marco said, narrowing his eyes at her theatrics.

Vanisha immediately turned her wide eyes toward Alessandro, wobbling her lips in a pitiful pout. “Ale… Ale… pleaaase,” she pleaded, rocking on her toes.

Alessandro exhaled, his stern face softening just a fraction. “Let her, Marco. I’ll send guards with her.” His voice was quiet but final.

Vanisha grinned, triumphant. “Don’t you dare forget my gift, bye!” she sing-songed, sticking her tongue out at Marco before darting out the door, excitement bubbling in every step.

Marco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Spoiled brat.”

Vanisha lied.

She wasn’t going to the library.

The words had slipped out so easily, yet guilt twisted in her chest the moment they left her lips. She had never lied to her brothers before. They trusted her, believed her every word, and this time was also no different.

But what choice did she have? She had spent her entire life under Alessandro’s suffocating protection, watched, guarded, sheltered to the point where the world beyond their mansion felt like a forbidden dream. She had always wanted to know what it felt like to be a normal teenager. To breathe without guards at every step. To laugh, dance, and make mistakes without her brother’s watchful shadow hovering behind her.

Tonight, she was turning eighteen. And tonight, she was determined to taste freedom.

Her best friend, Melany, had promised her everything: her first drink, her first nightclub, her first night away from Alessandro’s rules.

A simple plan it was. At least that’s how it sounded when Melany whispered it over the phone, her voice bubbling with excitement. She had painted it so effortlessly, like a childish dare rather than something dangerous. The guards would be waiting outside the library, exactly where they were supposed to be. Vanisha, meanwhile, would slip out the back door, where Melany’s car would be waiting. Clothes, makeup, even a fake ID; Melany took care of everything. “You just show up. Tonight, you get to be normal. Tonight, you get to be free.”

And Vanisha believed her. How could she not? Melany was her best friend, the one who had always been by her side, the only person who seemed to understand the loneliness of her gilded cage.

When the library loomed before her, towering and solemn in the night, Vanisha’s pulse raced so loudly it almost drowned out her thoughts. She forced a calm smile as she spoke to her guards, her voice light, practiced. “You can wait here. I’ll be inside until midnight.”

The guards exchanged glances, then nodded. Obedient. Loyal. Unaware. Their eyes swept the dark gardens, ever watchful for danger, never imagining the real risk was slipping right past them.

She tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her heart racing as she hurried down the marble steps of the library. The guards lingered at the main entrance.

The back corridor was dim and quiet, every sound of her footsteps echoing far too loudly in her ears. She hesitated once, her conscience whispering Turn back. Alessandro will forgive you if you just tell him the truth. But then she remembered his smothering protectiveness, the way he never let her out of his sight. Her lips pressed into a determined line. Not tonight. Just this once.

The heavy backdoor creaked as she pushed it open, cold night air rushing against her skin. For the first time, she was outside without permission. She almost giggled at the reckless thrill of it.

And then she saw it, headlights flashing twice in the distance. Melany’s car.

Vanisha’s heart leapt. She ran across the shadowed pathway, her heels clicking against the stone, her curls bouncing as she half-laughed, half-panted. The car door opened, and Melany leaned out, grinning widely, dressed like she had stepped out of one of the glossy magazines Vanisha secretly adored.

“You’re late, birthday girl!” Melany teased, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her inside.

Vanisha collapsed into the seat, breathless, cheeks flushed with excitement. “I can’t believe I actually did it,” she whispered, half in disbelief, half in delight.

Melany smirked, her eyes glinting in the passing streetlights as she started the engine. “Oh, trust me. By the end of the night, you’ll wonder why you ever listened to your brother at all.”

The car sped off into the night.

Vanisha leaned back against the seat, a smile tugging at her lips, unaware that every mile they drove was carrying her further from the safety of home… and closer to the fate that awaited her.

She had no way of knowing that this night she was so excited about, her first night of freedom, would also be her last. Because she never came back.

Hours passed. Midnight came and went. The guards waited, growing uneasy. When Vanisha didn’t emerge, they finally stormed inside the library. Her phone rang and rang, unanswered. Panic set in as they scoured nearby streets, calling her name, searching every shadow. But she was gone.

By 2 a.m., fear twisted their insides, and they finally made the dreaded call.

Alessandro’s voice barked down the line like thunder: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S NOT THERE? FIND HER! TURN THE CITY UPSIDE DOWN IF YOU HAVE TO!”

Alessandro didn’t sleep that night. He tore through the city, breaking doors, interrogating every soul he thought capable of betrayal. His men scoured streets, alleys, and clubs.

But the next morning, all hope curdled into horror.

They found her.

Vanisha’s body was found discarded in a trash can, her once-bright eyes closed forever, her small frame broken and raped. The city wept rain that day as if mourning with them.

The funeral was a storm of grief. Black umbrellas bent under the downpour. Vanisha’s coffin, white with silver trim, was lowered into the ground. Their mother’s wails carried over the cemetery, raw and piercing.

Alessandro stood unmoving, rain sliding down his face, eyes hollow and fixed on the lowering box. Besides him, his cousins stood. Lucca, his tall frame tense, shoulders squared. He didn’t cry, but his jaw ticked, his fists so tight the veins in his arms stood out. The storm couldn’t disguise the tremor of his breathing.

Marco stood on Alessandro’s other side, his usual sharp tongue gone, replaced with a silence that cut deeper than words. His lips pressed into a hard line, his gaze burning into the grave as if memorizing every detail. He wasn’t as still as Alessandro; his hand twitched at his side, restless, itching to lash out, to tear apart the world that dared to take their blood.

When the first shovel of dirt hit the coffin with a dull thud, Alessandro’s jaw locked. He whispered, voice ragged, raw enough that only his cousins could hear:

“Rest now, hermana. I swear to you, I’ll find the one who opened the gates for them.”

Lucca shifted, eyes still fixed on the grave. His voice was low, steady, deadly calm.

“And when we find them… they won’t be buried whole.”

Marco’s lips curved into something between grief and rage, his teeth flashing in the storm.

“No storm, no army, no hell will save them from us.”

The three men stood shoulder to shoulder, rain soaking them to the bone, watching as the earth swallowed the last of Vanisha’s coffin.

The vow was sealed there, over her grave, while thunder rolled across the heavens.

It didn’t take long before the name surfaced: Boston.

The rival empire.

The moment confirmation reached him, Alessandro did not hesitate. His wrath was not a storm; storms pass. His vengeance was fire, unending and consuming. He razed the Boston empire to dust. Mansions, warehouses, clubs, every foundation they had built, burned until nothing but embers and bone remained.

There was no mercy. Not for the men who pulled the strings. Not for the women who carried their blood. Not even for the children destined to inherit their name. He killed them all. Alessandro saw to it himself that the line was erased, cut off at its roots. Boston ceased to exist.

Yet when the smoke cleared, when the city stank of charred flesh and ruin, Alessandro’s rage remained unsated. Because there was one thing that didn’t make sense, one truth gnawing at him like poison.

Boston should never have reached Vanisha. Villarreal city was impenetrable, its gates sealed, its people too loyal, too afraid, to ever betray their kings. No enemy could have stepped within those walls without a hand to guide them.

There was someone very close who was helping them.

The word burned him deeper than the flames he had unleashed.

So he called Suleman, the man Alessandro had once saved. Years ago, he had freed Suleman’s sister from the clutches of traffickers, pulling them both out of a nightmare they would never forget. That night, Suleman had sworn his loyalty, a vow to repay Alessandro with his life.

“The day I saved your sister, you promised me you would never forget,” he said, his eyes burning like embers. “That when the time came, you would return that debt.”

Suleman’s gaze hardened, his hand pressed to his chest. “Say it, Alessandro. Whatever you ask.”

“Then find me the truth,” Alessandro hissed. “Find me who helped them reach Vanisha. Who guided those butchers to her. By her next birthday, I want answers. No matter the cost. No matter the blood spilled.”