The mansion stood in the shadows of the Sicilian hills, its cracked stone walls a silent witness to the countless deals made within its grim corridors. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, as though the heavens themselves were too afraid to look upon what happened here. Inside, the air was thick with the acrid scent of tobacco smoke, mingling with the stale humidity that clung to the ancient walls.
Vincenzo Giovanni, leader of the notorious Giovanni mafia family, stood at the center of it all, his eyes sharp and calculating. The deal tonight was crucial—one that could solidify their hold on the drug trade across Europe. But something was wrong.
He wiped his brow, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed against the papers in front of him. The familiar taste of iron was on his tongue, the metallic taste that had plagued him for weeks. It was part of the illness—an affliction that had stolen his senses, one that left him unable to taste food, unable to feel the simple pleasures of life. Worse still, it triggered episodes where he lost control, his instincts slipping into something animalistic.
"Are we ready, Vincenzo?" a voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Lucia stood before him, her eyes unwavering, a faint smirk playing on her lips. She was one of his most trusted lieutenants, her loyalty unquestioned—or so he thought. But lately, her calm demeanor unsettled him, and tonight, something about her felt... off.
Vincenzo nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes. Everything is in place."
The doors creaked open, and a group of rival dealers entered, their eyes scanning the room with cold precision. The tension in the air was palpable. Vincenzo's pulse quickened, and the sharp edge of fear settled in his chest. His instincts were screaming at him to act—but the illness clouded his judgment. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself.
The exchange began, and just as quickly, it fell apart.
Gunshots rang out, and the lights flickered. Chaos erupted, bodies moving in a blur, the sound of metal clashing against stone filling the room. The rival family had set them up. The location of the deal had been leaked. But by whom?
Vincenzo's vision blurred, his body tensing as the familiar symptoms took hold. His senses dulled, and his heart raced. His body was betraying him, and as much as he tried to fight it, the beast within him began to stir.
"Get them!" he barked at his men, but his voice was harsh, distorted. He didn't recognize the growl that escaped his lips. He could barely control his own body as his men scrambled to defend themselves.
And then, he saw her. Lucia. She stood off to the side, unmoving, her eyes cold and distant, as if the chaos around her was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Vincenzo's mind raced. No one was supposed to know about his weakness. No one but his closest family. Yet here they were, in the middle of a trap. The betrayal stung like a deep wound, and in the haze of his illness, he could barely piece together who was behind it.
He stumbled forward, fighting against the beast within, and locked eyes with Lucia. "Did you...?" His voice cracked, the words barely escaping his lips.
Lucia didn't flinch. Her lips curled into a thin smile, and she said nothing. But the look in her eyes spoke volumes—too much, in fact.
Vincenzo stumbled back, the room spinning as he struggled to hold onto his sanity. The walls seemed to close in, and his pulse raced. The betrayer was in this room—he could feel it in his bones. But who?
The chaos continued, and Vincenzo's grip on reality began to slip. He couldn't think straight. The illness was too strong, his body too weak. All he knew was that he had to survive, had to find the one who had doomed him.
A voice echoed in his mind, whispering, The walls have ears. And someone is listening.
As the gunfire died down and his men began regrouping, Vincenzo realized something even more terrifying—someone had planned this. Someone knew his weakness and had used it against him.
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