A Threat to the Devil

"Father," Alessandro called as the heavy oak doors swung open with a low groan, and he entered.

In Augustus De Luca's office — a room that felt more like a throne room — Augustus sat behind a mahogany desk the size of a small car, its surface polished to a mirror shine. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling windows framed the storm raging outside, lightning flickering against the night.

He leaned back in his leather chair, fingers steepled under his chin, dark eyes narrowed at the letter spread open in front of him. The fire crackling in the hearth cast sharp shadows across his face, deepening the lines of age and power etched into his skin. His presence filled the room without effort — a king in every sense of the word.

Alessandro moved with the quiet confidence of a man who had never learned how to bow. The black suit he wore was sharp enough to cut — tailored to perfection, hugging the broad lines of his shoulders and chest, the dark silk shirt beneath unbuttoned at the collar just enough to hint at muscle. There was something dangerous in the way he carried himself... like a storm barely held in check.

"Father," he greeted again, voice calm, deep.

Augustus didn't look up right away. He let the silence hang for a beat too long, the tension thickening between them. Alessandro took a seat, lounging on the office couch like royalty. It felt like two lions ruling the same den.

Finally, Augustus lifted his gaze. "I heard of what you did in Lazio," he said.

"That was nothing," Alessandro replied, clearing his throat.

"Nothing?" Augustus chuckled darkly.

"I didn't mean to kill him. I pointed out what he did, his conspiracy... but he talked back. Rudely," Alessandro defended.

"That's why I sent you to the meeting instead of going there myself. What they took from me is enough to crumble half of what I have built, but I knew they'd act like they did nothing. That’s why I had you do the job."

"I figured you wanted me to silence all of them but..."

"But? I wanted them gone. I couldn’t do it myself in my current state," Augustus said, lifting his right hand, revealing a cast and bandage. "You should have silenced every one of them, starting from Gallo to the very annoying Mateo," he added angrily, cutting Alessandro off.

"I know what I did, Father. I told them to return what they took within a month. If they die, you lose everything they stole. We need them alive — until they pay."

"Do you think those manipulators will pay back everything?" Augustus asked, already understanding his son’s game.

"They have no options. They will. And if they don't... I'll silence them."

A wicked calm coated Alessandro’s tone.

"The only one I left half-alive is Vittorio. I cut off his hands so he will never touch money again."

Augustus scoffed, a dry smirk twitching his lips. "I don't need DNA to prove you're my son."

"What's this about? Luca said there's a problem?" Alessandro asked as he stood, hands sliding casually into his pockets, but his eyes remained sharp. Watchful.

Wordlessly, Augustus slid a letter forward.

"What's this?" Alessandro asked, picking it up. The paper crackled softly between his fingers as he read.

"Release the casinos... or we burn them to the ground. You have one week. — Diego Rossi"

Alessandro's jaw ticked. He let out a wicked smirk.

"Bold," he said dryly, dropping the letter back onto the desk. "Even for him. I thought he’d learned his lesson by now."

He sat back, legs folding.

Augustus exhaled slowly, leaning forward. His hands folded together on the desk, thick rings gleaming under the light.

"This isn't a threat. It’s a declaration of war."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"You know what to do," Augustus said coldly.

"We don’t negotiate with the Rossis. We don’t give them a damn thing." He stood and walked slowly toward the edge of the table.

Alessandro nodded once, though a darker flicker passed through his eyes.

"A message, then."

"A message they won’t forget. Hit them where it hurts. Diego Rossi thinks he can take what belongs to us? Let him learn the price of defiance," Augustus said, tapping a ballpoint pen against the desk in a slow, dangerous rhythm.

"I’ll handle it." Alessandro's lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something sharper. Something deadly.

"Good," Augustus said, returning to his chair, leaning back into the leather.

"Make sure he understands — we don’t play games."

"Since he doesn't want to learn, he will learn the hard way."

Alessandro said with a wicked smirk, inclining his head slightly before turning to leave. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the hall, fading like a warning.

Thunder rumbled outside, lightning flashing white against the glass. Augustus looked out the window, a dangerous smirk creeping across his lips as he spun slowly in his swivel chair.

"Diego Rossi, even the sky is already weeping in advance for the wrath I will unleash on you."

And before the storm was over... someone was going to bleed.