A Witch who can see the future gets involved with a Mafia Lord who wants to find the killers of his mother with the witch's help. But this witch......can she really see the future?
A Witch who can see the future gets involved with a Mafia Lord who wants to find the killers of his mother with the witch's help. But this witch......can she really see the future?
Arthur's POV
"He tried to smuggle in drugs. We caught him before he got the chance to plant the bombs," Beck said to his boss, steadying his hand on the pistol strapped to his waist. "I left him in the basement, will you be doing the torturing or I should get on with it?."
Xavier tightened his rope around his firm body, his chest exposed and Beck tried to pry his eyes away. Nobody could blame him, their boss was not an ordinary man.
Xavier leaned against the doorframe of his expensive multi dollar room. The place they were currently at wasn't his personal home but the building where his gang members stayed. Being a Mafia lord, he had to separate his personal life from what he did generally. He had reasons for it, reasons he didn't have to share with anybody.
"Mark under his eyes? The little white fucked up shit they always seem to draw on their gang member's face, they got them?."
Beck shook his head. "They don't. It's getting tougher to find the North gang. We're doing our best."
Xavier scoffed. "Clearly, your best isn't good enough and I'm impatient. Carry on with the torturing, give me informations when done, yeah?."
"Okay boss."
Xavier watched Beck, his smart right-hand man and assassin leave and he slammed the door shut. This is what bothers him, he's been searching for the members of the North gang for years, since he was eighteen and he's a grown man now, clocking twenty eight and he hasn't found them.
Xavier was the leader of the South gang, a firm believer of a lot of things. Calling him a dangerous man was an understatement, he enjoyed killing, he could say the same for any mafia boss out there. He's been tracking the North gang for so long, he wanted-hell, he needed to put a bullet in their head, every one of them.
Xavier was the leader of the South Mafia Gang. They called them the Hibiscus. Considering how tough, dangerous and skilled he was, people who knew about his gang wondered why he called them the Hibiscus. It was simple, a horrible past but a memorable one.
At age ten, a young Xavier decided to stay home because he preferred watching his mom play around with guns. He knew what his mother was, he knew how dangerous she was. She wasn't a typical housewife, she was ruling the South at the time. But then, young Xavier had gone up to his room to gather his own blanket made guns and he took longer than usual and when he came back downstairs, his mother was lying down in a pool of her own blood with the symbol of the hibiscus flower carved in her chest.
Every single day, the same image replays in Xavier's head. The way his mother's eyes were wide open, directionless, her blood gushing out from the bullet in her head. It haunted him everyday that he couldn't do anything about it, he knew the people who did it.
The North gang.
There's always been a beef between the South and North mafia gangs. The issue was that the North gang was not traceable. It showed Xavier just how powerful they were. They ruled the North with so much trepidation. Xavier could be a soft man but he would never act vulnerable or show his soft sides. Nobody knew Xavier's weaknesses and that was a good thing.
No weaknesses, no betrayals.
Xavier was on the list of most wanted men by literally everybody. The police wanted him, the CIA wanted him. Why did they want him though? Xavier's answer to that question was that he helped them kill people they couldn't even find. He didn't care nonetheless, he was just as untraceable as well. His gang members were even more dangerous. The females especially, he made sure these women were properly trained. There were only ten of them, the other hundreds were all men, dangerous well-trained men.
The females were undoubtedly smarter than all the men combined. They did their jobs flawlessly but one of them got killed off when she was offered chicken change to bring Xavier's head to a certain amateur gang. Till this day, it makes Xavier laugh. Trying to seduce him was the one thing he could never fall for. Considering the sort of job he did and the sort of people he worked with, everyone saw him as a target and he'd never let his guard down.
He has killed people, more than he can count and he doesn't regret one bit of it. He mostly kills people who deserve it but at the end of the day, it can come down to having to kill an innocent person to get answers. He still doesn't feel regrets about any of it. Dining and attending high ranking society events were a must when it came to being a mafia leader. He always has people surrounding him, ready to protect him.
Now, the one thing anybody would never do is try to slip their way through Xavier's walls and try to harm Xavier. People were scared shitless of him, he had a nickname.
Kanik means blood.
The nickname was perfect for Xavier considering he thirsted for blood all the time, a mafia vampire even though he wasn't technically a vampire. The people who called him Kanik always did before he sucked the life out of them, either by snapping their neck, putting a bullet in their favorite body parts, he always makes them choose. Cutting their tongue off, pulling their teeth off one by one and making them count. He was merciless and whatever slow, painful death he gave someone, he ranked it.
A full 100? Or a 50. Whatever one he was feeling. Xavier shrugged his rope off, stepping towards the walk in closer in his room butt naked and stared at himself in the mirror. The man chuckled at himself. "Need to work on my thighs more, my cock feels bigger or is it just me who thinks that?."
He strode to the other side of his closet and pulled the drawer open. He grabbed a pair of black boxers and put it on. To the other side of the room where his shirts were neatly hung, he grabbed a dark blue one. Throwing it on, he turned to the other side of the room and grabbed a pair of black pants. He was dressed immediately, his best friends Noah and Micheal were adamant about him leaving with them to a strip club tonight and if he said he was hyped up for it then he was capping.
He stared at himself in the mirror again as he tucked his shirt into his pants. Buttoning the shirt and leaving three buttons undone. The ink on his chest, a tattoo that means a lot to him that read, "Hibiscus" was well written and he loved how everyone got to see it whenever his chest was a little revealed. Everyone in his gang had the 'Hibiscus' inked on their bodies.
He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. His right arm was fully inked, different tattoos that mean different things. Important things to him. Since it was a strip club, there was a chance that his competitors might know he'd be there so he had to go with tons of bodyguards. He grabbed a pair of white sneakers and left the closet to settle on his bed. Carefully, he put the sneakers on and grabbed his phone.It was almost midnight and his friends decided to pick him up instead of having his personal driver take him to the location.
Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
In the eighteen years of her life, Brianna had endured relentless abuse from her family, living in constant fear. One fateful day, two dignified figures approached her and revealed a shocking truth: she was their long-lost daughter, heiress to the wealthiest family in the city-the Owens. Desperate for love and acceptance, Brianna hoped to escape her past. Instead, she fell victim to Cassie, a cunning impostor who manipulated their parents against her while feigning distress. Rather than forging a connection with her real family, Brianna found herself betrayed and isolated. When a car accident left Brianna in a vegetative state, she found herself able to listen to everything around her, though unable to respond. Bitterly, she realized her parents didn't care for her; they visited just once. A month later, Cassie visited, disconnecting the ventilator before leaning in to whisper coldly, "Goodbye, my dear sister. You shouldn't have come back. You are meant for that despicable, wretched family." Somehow, fate granted Brianna a second chance. Reborn and fueled by rage, she vowed to make everyone who had wronged her pay dearly. This time, she would seize the life that had been stolen from her.
To the public, she was the CEO's executive secretary. Behind closed doors, she was the wife he never officially acknowledged. Jenessa was elated when she learned that she was pregnant. But that joy was replaced with dread as her husband, Ryan, showered his affections on his first love. With a heavy heart, she chose to set him free and leave. When they met again, Ryan's attention was caught by Jenessa's protruding belly. "Whose child are you carrying?!" he demanded. But she only scoffed. "It's none of your business, my dear ex-husband!"
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!
After a one-night stand with a stranger, Roselyn woke up to find only a bank card without a PIN number. Still in a daze, she was detained on charges of theft. Just as the handcuffs were about to close, the mysterious man reappeared, holding her pregnancy report. "You're pregnant with my child," he said coldly. Shocked, Roselyn was whisked away in a helicopter to the presidential palace, where she learned the truth: the man from that night was none other than the country's most powerful and influential leader!
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