The man groaned in agony, slumping against the cold, damp concrete. Davil stood over him, unmoved.
His dark eyes glinted with disdain as he regarded Marcelo, a pathetic, miserable traitor who had dared to think he could outwit the Vitale family.
The Vitale name was a legacy, carved in blood and power since the 1980s.
Though his great-grandfather's arrest had momentarily silenced their empire, the family had rebuilt, stronger and more dangerous than ever.
Davil's grandfather, a criminal mastermind, had not only dominated the drug market but had redefined it, creating and distributing drugs so potent that their competition never stood a chance.
Decades later, the Vitale name was synonymous with control, innovation, and ruthless efficiency in the underworld.
Yet, vermin like Marcello always seemed to crawl out of the shadows, foolish enough to think they could bite the hand that fed them.
Two entire vans of Alleviate crystals, one of their most lucrative products, had gone missing.
The theft had sparked an embarrassing and potentially volatile rivalry with the Gambino family.
For weeks, Davil had been chasing leads, only to discover the culprit wasn't an outsider, but one of their own.
Marcello.
The betrayal was personal. Marcello had worked for the family since he was ten,a trusted ally who had grown up in their world.
And yet, he'd dared to steal from them, purchasing fake IDs and passports in a pathetic attempt to flee Italy.
Unfortunately for Marcello, the store he'd chosen for his illegal documents was owned by the Vitale family.
Now, electricity coursed through Marcelo's body, his muscles spasming uncontrollably.
The shock baton's hum faded as Davil signaled Romano to give the man a brief reprieve.
Marcello's foaming mouth quivered as he lay gasping on the floor, his body wrecked with pain.
"You think I'm going to let you die that easily?" Davil's voice was ice, each word laced with menace.
Marcelo spat weakly at Davil's pristine Valentino shoes. Davil's jaw tightened, his muscles coiling like a predator preparing to strike.
If he killed the bastard now, it would be mercy, and Marcello didn't deserve mercy.
"Who are you working with, Marcello?" Davil's voice dropped, low and lethal.
Marcelo trembled, avoiding Davil's piercing gaze. There was no fight left in him, only fear.
"What did they offer you?" Davil pressed, leaning closer. His anger simmered beneath a veneer of cruel calm. "What was worth betraying me?"
Marcelo's voice came out a strained whisper. "They… They're going to kill her."
Davil's eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "Who?"
Marcelo hesitated, his cracked lips trembling. Finally, he spoke, his voice tight with desperation.
"My daughter."