The Empire of Darkness

Gabriel

The smell of blood lingers in the air.

Not mine. The bastard bleeding out at my feet gurgles something unintelligible, his body twitching, his hands clawing at the marble floor of my office as if he could escape his fate.

He can't.

I watch him with a detached gaze, sipping my whiskey as my men stand motionless around us, waiting for my command. The man has been begging for his life for the past ten minutes, but I stopped listening a long time ago. I've heard it all before-the tears, the apologies, the pathetic promises. None of them matter.

"Do you know why you're here, Luca?" I ask, my voice calm, almost bored.

The man wheezes, blood spilling from his lips as he tries to lift his head. "P-please, Moretti... I swear, I didn't-"

I tilt my head, watching him struggle. "Lying until the very end."

I nod at Enzo, my most trusted enforcer. He steps forward without hesitation and presses the barrel of his gun against Luca's temple. The man starts sobbing, his whole body shaking.

I finish my drink and set the glass down. "You stole from me, Luca. You tried to cheat me. And worst of all, you thought you could get away with it."

"I- I swear, I was set up! It wasn't me, I-"

BANG.

Silence.

I take a deep breath as the body slumps to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The sound of the gunshot still echoes in the vast space of my office.

I glance at Enzo. "Clean this up."

He nods. "Yes, boss."

The others move quickly, dragging the body away while one of them mops up the blood. I button my suit jacket, stepping around the mess. Another loose end tied. Another lesson taught.

This city belongs to me. Every deal, every shipment, every dollar that moves through my territory does so because I allow it. And when someone forgets that, I remind them.

But tonight, something is off.

A storm is coming-I can feel it in my bones.

---

The underground clinic smells like antiseptic and bad decisions.

I step inside, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room. It's hidden beneath an old bookstore, one of those places most people walk past without noticing. But in my world, everyone knows where to go when they need a doctor who won't ask questions.

I'm not here for myself.

One of my men, Matteo, got hit during an ambush. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to need stitches, and I don't trust hospitals. Too many eyes, too many risks.

The doctor is a woman.

I didn't expect that.

She stands in front of Matteo, wrapping a bandage around his arm with steady hands. Dark curls fall over her shoulders, framing a face that doesn't belong in a place like this. High cheekbones, full lips, and sharp eyes that don't flinch when she notices me.

She's beautiful.

Dangerously so.

"You're the boss," she says, her voice cool, indifferent. "You could have just sent someone to pick up your man."

I step closer, watching her carefully. "And you must be the new doctor."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Dr. Alba Ricci."

Ricci.

Interesting.

I file the name away, already making connections in my mind. She's

Alba

I've seen men like him before.

They walk into a room and own it, not because they demand attention but because the world bends around them. Gabriel Moretti is exactly that kind of man-powerful, arrogant, and so dangerously controlled that it makes my pulse quicken in ways I don't want to admit.

His dark gaze is locked on mine, unreadable yet piercing, as if he's already dissecting me, pulling me apart piece by piece. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, just watches.

I should be afraid.

Most people in my position would be.

But fear is a luxury I abandoned a long time ago.

I take a step back, turning my focus back to his injured man, Matteo. He's still sitting on my exam table, his arm bleeding through the bandage I just finished wrapping. His boss might enjoy playing his little intimidation games, but I have a job to do.

"Don't move too much," I instruct Matteo, my voice steady. "The stitches will hold, but if you start throwing punches again, you'll be back here within the hour."

Matteo gives a lopsided grin. "Guess I better behave then."

Gabriel doesn't react, but I can feel his presence behind me, a storm lingering just out of reach.

"Are you done?" His voice is smooth, commanding.

I nod without looking at him. "For now."

The tension in the room thickens, suffocating. I hate it. I hate the way my body reacts to his nearness, the way my skin prickles when he steps even closer.

But I don't let it show.

I turn to face him, lifting my chin. "If that's all, I have other patients to see."

One of his men chuckles under his breath. The audacity of my words amuses them. But Gabriel... Gabriel doesn't laugh. His expression remains unreadable, a mask of absolute control.

"You're new here." His voice is softer this time, but it holds an edge of something sharper beneath it.

I fold my arms, holding his gaze. "And?"

"You don't ask questions."

It's not a compliment. It's an observation, maybe even a test.

I shrug. "Not my job to ask. Only to fix."

His lips curve into something that isn't quite a smile but isn't far from it either. "Good."

There's something dangerous about him, something that makes my instincts scream to stay away. But I can't. Not because I want to be near him-but because I don't have a choice.

I ran from one monster.

And now, I've walked straight into the arms of another.

The moment he leaves, I lock the door and let out a shaky breath.

I've dealt with criminals before. You don't work underground without brushing shoulders with the worst of humanity. But Gabriel Moretti is different.

I've seen men with power. Men with money. Men who think they can control everything around them.

He doesn't need to think it. He just does.

And that's what makes him terrifying.

I pull off my gloves, tossing them in the trash before heading to the small sink in the corner to wash my hands. The cool water does nothing to soothe the heat burning beneath my skin. I scrub harder, as if I can wash away the feeling of his eyes on me.

Damn it.

I shouldn't be reacting like this.

I left my old life to escape men like him. To be free.

I glance at my reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. Dark curls frame my face, my cheekbones sharp from too many sleepless nights. There's a flicker of something in my eyes-fear? No. I refuse to let it be fear.

But I know what Gabriel Moretti is.

And men like him?

They don't let go of something they want.

The first time someone tries to break into my clinic, it's past midnight.

I hear the noise from the back room, where I've been dozing off in my chair. The sound of metal scraping against metal, followed by a dull thud.

Someone's trying to force the door open.

My heart pounds as I reach for the scalpel on my desk. Useless against a gun, but better than nothing. My breath is shallow, my body tense as I creep toward the entrance.

Then I hear it-a muffled curse, a struggle, and then... silence.

I grip the scalpel tighter.

The door creaks open.

I brace myself, expecting a masked intruder, maybe one of my father's men finally catching up to me.

But instead, it's him.

Gabriel Moretti steps inside like he owns the place. His black suit is immaculate, but there's a faint stain on his sleeve-blood. His expression is calm, unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are alight with something cold, something lethal.

Behind him, the body of a man slumps against the doorframe, unconscious or worse.

I swallow hard. "What the hell-"

"Your security is shit." His voice is quiet, but the weight behind it is unmistakable.

I glare at him. "I don't need your help."

He steps forward, slow, deliberate. "You think that?"

I stand my ground, refusing to let him intimidate me. "I know that."

His eyes flicker to the scalpel in my grip. He smirks. "Cute."

Heat rises in my cheeks, but I refuse to back down. "You don't get to decide what happens in my clinic."

He leans in just enough to invade my space, his scent-smoky, expensive-filling my lungs.

"This isn't your clinic anymore, dolcezza." His voice drops, low and smooth, like a promise. Or a threat.

I hate that my stomach flips at the way the Italian rolls off his tongue.

I meet his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. "And what, exactly, do you think it is now?"

A slow, deliberate smirk curves his lips.

"Mine."

I barely sleep that night.

Not because of the break-in. Not because Gabriel Moretti took it upon himself to "handle" my security problem.

But because his words keep echoing in my mind.

Because a part of me, a small, reckless, stupid part of me, wonders what it would mean to belong to a man like him.

And that?

That is far more dangerous than any enemy lurking outside my door.