The basement was dimly lit, swallowed by darkness and the metallic scent of blood. In the center of the room sat a man tied to a chair, his body covered in wounds, hanging on the verge of death. Yet he was kept alive for one reason alone — he still hadn’t revealed the truth.

Before him sat a man who carried himself like a king. Calm. Unshaken. Ruthless. A gun rested loosely in his hand while blood stained his face, making his dark presence even more terrifying. Behind him stood two tall, muscular shadows, silently watching the wounded man as if waiting for a single command.

He leaned back in the chair with quiet arrogance, the gun resting lazily between his fingers. His dark eyes never left the wounded man as silence swallowed the basement whole.

“Now,” he said slowly, his voice low and terrifyingly calm, “will you tell me who sent you to attack my family… or should I put all six bullets into your head?”

The wounded man coughed violently, blood spilling from the corner of his lips as his trembling body struggled to stay upright. His breathing was uneven, broken, as if every breath caused him pain.

“I-It was…” his voice cracked weakly, barely rising above a whisper. “Y-Your enemy family… they told me to attack…”

He paused, breathing heavily before slowly lifting his head. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with anger despite the pain tearing through him.

“But I couldn’t…” he spat bitterly, his voice shaking with frustration and hatred. “Because you found out.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire basement fell into a deadly silence.

Then—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Six bullets tore through the wounded man before anyone could even breathe. The deafening sound of gunshots echoed violently against the basement walls as blood splattered across the cold floor.

The man’s body went still, his lifeless eyes frozen wide open in terror.

Smoke slowly rose from the gun resting in his hand. Calmly, he lowered it, his expression unreadable as if he had done nothing more than silence an inconvenience.

“Clean this mess,” he said coldly before standing from the chair.

And for the first time that night, fear filled the room — not because of death… but because of him.

Without another glance at the dead body, he walked out of the basement and into the private room beside it. The sound of water soon filled the silence as blood slowly disappeared from his skin beneath the cold shower.

His head lowered slightly, water running down his face while one thought burned dangerously in his mind.

Power.

In his world, power was not given. It was taken. Protected. Feared. And anyone who dared to raise a hand against his family would pay a price far worse than death.

His jaw tightened as rage darkened his expression.

I will crush them so completely that they won’t even be able to stand again.

The water continued to wash away the blood from his body… but not the violence growing inside him.

The morning after the bloodshed felt unnaturally calm.

Sunlight filtered through the massive glass windows of the black marble mansion, casting pale shadows across the silent halls. The entire estate looked less like a home and more like a kingdom built for someone untouchable. Expensive paintings hung across dark walls while crystal chandeliers reflected cold light against the polished floors.

And in the center of that silence stood him.

Fresh out of the shower, water droplets slowly slid down his sharp jaw as he adjusted the cuffs of his black shirt. His expression remained unreadable, detached from everything around him. The events of last night did not haunt him. Blood never did.

A silver watch rested around his wrist while dark tattoos disappeared beneath the sleeves of his perfectly tailored suit. Every movement he made carried terrifying calmness — the kind possessed only by men born into power.

Or men who had killed for it.

The large mirror reflected his tall figure as he fixed his tie with slow precision. Cold grey eyes stared back at him without emotion.

Power.

The word followed him everywhere.

Not because he demanded it.

Because people feared it.

Feared him.

The distant sound of footsteps echoed outside his room before two tall men dressed entirely in black stopped near the entrance. Silent. Watchful. Shadows that never left his side.

Without sparing them a glance, he grabbed the car keys resting on the counter and walked past them.

The entire mansion instantly fell quieter.

Servants lowered their heads.

Guards stepped aside.

Nobody dared to meet his eyes for too long.

Because everyone inside the De Luca estate knew one thing very clearly—

When he walked into a room, death often followed behind him.

Outside, the cold morning air wrapped around the mansion grounds. Black luxury cars stood waiting near the entrance while armed guards remained stationed around the property.

The city called him many things.

Monster.

King.

Devil.

But nobody ever dared say those words to his face.

He stepped inside the matte black Rolls-Royce without a word while the two shadows followed behind him.

As the gates of the estate slowly opened, the city of Verona awakened beneath dark clouds and towering skyscrapers. Expensive buildings dominated the skyline, many of them owned under one name—

Noctis Dominion.

One of the most powerful architectural empires in the country.

Luxury hotels.

Private islands.

Sky-high towers.

Government contracts.

Tourist landmarks admired by millions.

To the public, it was a billion-dollar empire built by intelligence and ambition.

But beneath the polished surface of Noctis Dominion lived another world entirely.

Underground deals.

Weapons.

Blood.

Power hidden behind wealth.

And at the center of it all…

Was him.

The drive to the headquarters remained silent except for the sound of rain lightly hitting the windows. He sat calmly in the backseat, scrolling through reports on his phone while one of the shadows spoke quietly through an earpiece.

“Shipment reached the docks last night.”

His eyes remained fixed on the screen.

“And?”

“No complications.”

Good.

Because complications rarely survived long around him.

The car finally stopped before a towering black glass building standing proudly in the center of the city.

NOCTIS DOMINION.

The silver letters alone were enough to make powerful businessmen nervous.

Employees standing near the entrance immediately straightened the moment he stepped out of the car.

Fear spread instantly.

People lowered their voices.

Some looked away completely.

Others pretended to work harder.

The sound of his polished shoes against the marble floors echoed through the massive lobby like a warning.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved unnecessarily.

Even the air itself felt tense around him.

A young receptionist accidentally dropped a folder the moment his cold eyes briefly landed on her. Her hands visibly trembled while apologizing repeatedly.

He walked past her without reacting.

Inside the private elevator, one of the shadows pressed the top floor button while silence once again surrounded them.

The doors opened directly into his office floor.

Minimalistic.

Dark.

Cold.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city while black marble and silver details dominated the enormous space. His office did not feel welcoming.

It felt powerful.

Near the entrance stood a man holding several files against his chest.

“Nash Calloway,” he spoke quickly, following behind him. “Your ten o’clock meeting with the investors has been moved to noon. The Milan project designs were approved this morning, and the board is requesting your final signature.”

He removed his suit jacket calmly before sitting down behind the desk.

“What about the investigation?”

Nash hesitated carefully.

“We’re still tracking who leaked information about your family movements.”

The room instantly felt colder.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Last night’s attack was not random.

Someone had planned it.

And someone would pay for it.

“Find them before they disappear,” he said quietly.

Nash swallowed.

“Yes, sir.”

He opened another file nervously.

“There’s also an issue at the southern docks. One of the illegal shipments was delayed due to police inspection, but everything is under control now.”

“Make sure it stays that way.”

“Of course.”

Nash continued reading through the schedule while trying not to sound intimidated.

“Meeting with the Japanese investors at noon. Charity gala preparation by evening. Family dinner tonight at the estate…”

At the mention of family dinner, his expression darkened slightly.

“And,” Nash added carefully, “your mother called again this morning.”

Silence.

A dangerous kind.

“She said you’ve ignored her calls for three days.”

He leaned back slowly against the chair, eyes fixed on the city outside the glass windows.

“She talks too much.”

Nash almost smiled before immediately stopping himself.

“She seemed serious this time, sir.”

“She always does.”

Nash cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing.

“She mentioned marriage again.”

That finally earned a reaction.

A cold laugh escaped him, humorless and sharp.

“Marriage?”

“She believes you’re getting older.”

His eyes slowly lifted toward Nash.

The assistant immediately regretted repeating those exact words.

“She specifically said,” Nash continued carefully, “‘Twenty-eight is not young anymore.’”

The room fell silent for two whole seconds.

Then—

“She’s brave.”

Nash looked down instantly to hide his nervousness.

For the first time that morning, something unreadable crossed his face. Annoyance perhaps. Or exhaustion.

Marriage was the last thing he cared about.

Love was weak.

Feelings were dangerous.

And attachment?

Attachment got people killed.

He had spent years building power strong enough to crush entire bloodlines.

There was no place beside him for softness.

No place for love.

Yet somewhere deep inside him, buried beneath violence and control, something restless stirred quietly—

A storm waiting for the right person to awaken it.

And neither he nor the city feared by his name knew that soon…

Everything was about to change.

The city had learned something dangerous about him overnight.

Fear traveled faster than truth.

By noon, rumors had already spread across Verona that the men responsible for the recent attack had been personally executed by the heir of the De Luca family himself. Nobody knew whether the stories were true or exaggerated.

But nobody dared question them either.

Because when fear carried the name De Luca, people preferred silence over curiosity.

Rain slowly traced the glass windows of the Noctis Dominion headquarters while the top floor remained colder than the rest of the building. Employees moved carefully through the halls, lowering their voices whenever they neared his office.

Inside, the atmosphere felt suffocatingly still.

Nash Calloway stood beside the desk, flipping through several files while trying to ignore the tension surrounding the room.

“Your family is expecting you tonight, sir.”

The man seated behind the desk did not look up from the documents in his hands.

“Tell them I’m busy.”

Nash hesitated.

“Your mother specifically requested your presence.”

A slow silence followed.

Dangerous.

Heavy.

Then finally—

“I wasn’t asking.”

Nash immediately lowered his gaze.

“Understood, sir.”

He quickly gathered the files before leaving the office without another word.

The moment the doors closed, silence returned once again.

Cold.

Sharp.

Controlled.

The man leaned back against the leather chair, loosening his tie slightly while the storm outside darkened the city skyline. His grey eyes remained fixed on the rain-covered windows, unreadable as always.

People feared him for many reasons.

Some feared his power.

Others feared his silence more.

A soft knock echoed against the office doors before they slowly opened again.

This time, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

Two men entered.

Not employees.

Not guards.

Men powerful enough to walk into his office without permission.

The first one moved with terrifying calmness, dressed in an all-black suit with gloved hands resting casually inside his pockets. Sharp eyes scanned the room carefully before settling on the man behind the desk.

Nikolai Moretti.

Cold.

Unpredictable.

The kind of man people avoided instinctively.

Beside him walked another figure carrying several folders beneath his arm. Unlike Nikolai’s dangerous aura, this man appeared composed, controlled, almost elegant in the way he carried himself.

Matteo Bellini.

Calm under pressure.

Strategic.

The mind behind most of Noctis Dominion’s security operations.

If Nikolai was the blade hidden in darkness—

Matteo was the wall protecting the empire from collapsing.

Neither of them bowed.

Neither of them looked intimidated.

Because they were the only men trusted enough to stand beside him rather than beneath him.

Nikolai glanced toward the untouched whiskey resting near the desk before smirking slightly.

“You look tired.”

The man behind the desk finally looked up.

“Say something useful.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Nikolai while Matteo placed the folders carefully on the table.

“The rumors are spreading faster than expected,” Matteo spoke calmly. “Half the city believes you executed those men yourself.”

Silence.

Then—

“Did I?” the man asked coldly.

Neither Nikolai nor Matteo answered.

Because sometimes it was impossible to tell whether he was joking.

Matteo opened one of the files.

“The council members are becoming nervous. Increased security has already been requested around three De Luca properties.”

“Double it,” he said immediately.

Matteo nodded once.

“Already done.”

Nikolai moved toward the windows overlooking the city below.

“People are watching the family closely now,” he said quietly. “The attack made noise.”

“It was supposed to,” the man replied.

That earned both men’s attention.

His expression remained unreadable as he slowly stood from the chair, adjusting the sleeves of his black shirt. Dark tattoos briefly disappeared beneath the fabric once again.

Power followed him naturally.

Not loudly.

Not desperately.

It simply existed around him.

Nikolai folded his arms.

“You think this was a warning?”

“No,” the man answered calmly. “Warnings come before mistakes.”

The room fell silent.

Then Matteo spoke carefully.

“There’s another issue.”

His eyes slowly lifted toward him.

“The media has started questioning why Noctis Dominion suddenly increased private security around the estate.”

“Let them question.”

“The city is nervous.”

A cold smile finally touched his face.

“Good.”

Rain thundered softly outside while tension settled deeper inside the office.

For years, the De Luca name had remained untouchable. Feared. Respected. Powerful enough to silence governments when necessary.

But power always attracted enemies eventually.

And enemies became reckless when they grew desperate.

Nikolai tilted his head slightly.

“We found another trail connected to last night’s attackers.”

That immediately sharpened the atmosphere.

“Who?”

“Still digging,” Nikolai replied. “But someone inside the city is helping them move unnoticed.”

Matteo crossed his arms thoughtfully.

“Not police.”

“No,” Nikolai agreed. “Too clean for police.”

The man near the windows remained silent for several seconds.

Thinking.

Calculating.

Every movement around him carried control, even his silence.

Finally, he turned toward them fully.

“Tighten security around my family.”

“It’s already done,” Matteo replied instantly.

“No mistakes this time.”

“There won’t be.”

Nikolai studied him quietly before speaking again.

“You should still attend dinner tonight.”

His jaw tightened almost invisibly.

“Since when do you give personal advice?”

“Since your mother threatened to send people after us if you ignored her again.”

That actually earned the smallest reaction from him.

Not amusement.

Not exactly.

But close enough.

Matteo sighed softly.

“She’s becoming impatient.”

“She can wait.”

Nikolai smirked faintly.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

His cold eyes landed on him instantly.

“Careful.”

The warning was quiet.

But deadly enough to silence the room.

Nikolai only lifted his hands slightly in surrender before walking toward the bar counter near the windows.

Unlike the rest of the city, these two men understood him beyond the fear.

They had seen:

* the violence,

* the pressure,

* the blood,

* the expectations carried by the De Luca name.

And despite everything—

They stayed.

Loyalty like that was rare in his world.

Matteo glanced toward the files again.

“There’s also tomorrow’s council meeting.”

“I know.”

“They want reassurance.”

“They’ll survive without it.”

“The investors won’t.”

That finally pulled a colder expression from him.

“I built their empire,” he said quietly. “They don’t breathe without my permission.”

The office fell silent again.

Because everyone in the room knew it was true.

Noctis Dominion had become untouchable under his control. Hotels, skyscrapers, luxury estates, political influence—everything connected back to him eventually.

Not because he inherited power.

Because he strengthened it.

Turned it into something feared.

Something impossible to challenge.

Nikolai walked back toward the desk slowly.

“You know the city has started calling you something else now?”

His gaze remained indifferent.

“I don’t care.”

“They call you Il Re Nero.”

Matteo exhaled quietly.

The Black King.

The title hung heavily inside the room.

Not given by media.

Not by businessmen.

But by the city itself.

By people who feared what stood behind the De Luca name.

For the first time that morning, complete silence filled the office.

Then slowly—

Very slowly—

The man reached for his black suit jacket resting against the chair.

Rain continued pouring beyond the windows as he slipped the jacket over his shoulders with effortless precision.

Cold.

Controlled.

Untouchable.

Nikolai watched him carefully.

“The council is waiting.”

The man adjusted the silver watch around his wrist before finally speaking.

“Let them wait.”

Then he walked past them.

And as the office doors opened, the entire atmosphere around the floor shifted instantly.

Employees straightened.

Voices disappeared.

Fear returned.

Because the man walking through those halls was not simply powerful.

He was Alessandro De Luca.

And the city of Verona had learned long ago—

Men like him were not born.

They were created through blood, power, and fear.