Warning ⚠️
Please note that this story contains the use of hard drugs, betrayal, sexual tension and fantasy, sexual intercourse between same-sex (boyxboy), frequent use of strong language, nudity, dark love, dominance and submission, excessive smoking, use of firearms and violence, killing, a bit of angst and fluff, and death of major characters etc. So, read at your own risk.

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A burning desire to dominate, control territory, and wield power over the lives of those residing in their domain was at the core of the Mafia's ambitions. They hungered for influence, wealth, and political power, displaying an insatiable greed to manipulate elections at all levels. Throughout their history, the Mafia extended its grip from street-level drug trafficking to the highest echelons of government. They operated outside the law but managed to establish an uneasy acceptance, even fear, in the neighborhoods and cities they inhabited. These mobsters, idolized by Hollywood and hunted by law enforcement, led violent and often short-lived lives.

For Park Chanyeol, the 30-year-old leader of the Fire & Light group, his journey into the Mafia world had taken a global detour. Initiated into the Cosa Nostra of Italy, he had sworn a new Omertà, fleeing from China, where he had served as an underboss. While the Cosa Nostra was perhaps the most renowned, it wasn't necessarily the largest. Chanyeol, since his return to South Korea, had dipped his hands into various illicit activities, reaping the rewards of his criminal enterprise.

As a young and influential figure in society, many looked up to Chanyeol as a role model. He invited eager young men into the fold, guiding them through the ritualistic Omertà oath and finally inducting them into the ranks of made men.

The Mafia's portfolio was diverse, including illegal alcohol during the Prohibition era, narcotics trade, smuggling weapons, and hosting illegal gambling establishments, among other endeavors. They held an uncanny ability to halt construction projects by manipulating workers' wages and had control over substantial union pension funds. Their authority was enforced through menacing threats of violence. Most victims chose not to report these crimes, paralyzed by the fear of ruthless retaliation. While the public image often portrayed them as merciless executioners, their preferred method was intimidation, yet violence remained a constant undertone.

Most people and media houses portrayed the mafia as killing machines, but that wasn't entirely true. They were wizards of intimidation and preferred to frighten instead of kill. That's not to say that they didn't kill people, they did.

Like now...

Within a dimly lit room, Chanyeol, the Fire & Light Mafia boss, found himself under the sheets with a sultry female gangster named Sofia. By his side lay an open bottle of Hennessy whisky, and a smoldering cigarette hung between his fingers.

Chanyeol, drawing on his cigarette and releasing a puff of smoke into the air, inquired, "So, what did the Wagon have to say about me?"

Sofia, her fingers tracing over his chiseled chest, replied in a sultry tone, "Not much, Don. He just mentioned that he's more powerful than you?"

Chanyeol's sinister laughter reverberated through the room. "More powerful than me? You think he's mightier than I am?"

"I didn't say that, Don," Sofia glanced up from where her head had rested on his chest, asserting, "Of course, you are more powerful than him." As she moved to straddle him, the sudden blast of cool air from the air conditioner sent a shiver through her, causing her nipples to stand erect.

Chanyeol snorted, suspicion evident in his eyes. "How much did he pay you, Sofia?"

"Twenty-three million won."

Chanyeol hissed, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling smoke in Sofia's direction. "Cheap bastard," he remarked, voicing his contempt. "A mere twenty thousand dollars? You people consistently underestimate my power. I can't stand being underrated. Tell him I won't be attending his sit-down." Chanyeol's voice carried an authoritative tone as he firmly declined the prospect of a meeting, especially with a rival Mafia group.

"But Don, the Wagon lord didn't know I worked for you, so how was I supposed to convey that?"

"That's not my concern, Sofia. It's your job, so do it," Chanyeol stated, tapping his cigarette over the edge of the ashtray. Using his thumbnail, he knocked the filter's bottom, causing the cigarette's ash to drop into the ashtray. "I'll fuck him up when the time is right, but don't let him in on that," he warned, pointing the cigarette at Sofia.

His phone persisted in buzzing with Minseok's name on the display. The continuous interruptions were beginning to annoy him. "Hand me the phone," Chanyeol demanded. Sofia, with whom he had just been intimate, obligingly moved to retrieve his phone from the bedside table.

As soon as he held his phone, Chanyeol swiped his finger across the screen in frustration. "What the hell! Minseok, it's late," he grumbled, sinking back onto the mattress.

Sofia seized the chance to snuggle up beside him, resting her head on Chanyeol's chest once more. Moments like these were a rarity with the Boss, and she intended to make the most of it. Her fingers began tracing slow circles on the Mafia lord's chest.

"Get to the point, Minseok. What's happening?" When Minseok hinted at an enemy attack and revealed that Sehun and the soldiers had caught a rival operative attempting to plant a time bomb beneath the trucks at the warehouse, Chanyeol's response was immediate. He sat up abruptly, pushing Sofia off him. "What?" Minseok went on to explain that the captive operative had refused to disclose who had sent him. This revelation ignited Chanyeol's fury. His jaws tightened, his pupils darkened with rage, and he threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "Where are you?" Chanyeol swiftly rose to his feet, stark naked, leaving Sofia spellbound. He made his way to the bathroom, phone still in hand. After washing up, he emerged and began dressing, starting with his boxers shorts.

"Boss, are you leaving already?" Sofia inquired, curiosity in her voice.

"Yes, and I need you to go," Chanyeol asserted firmly, not sparing her a glance. Confused by his abrupt change of demeanor, Sofia asked, "But why? We only had two rounds of sex, and you're already sending me away."

"Only two rounds?" Chanyeol scoffed, fixing her with an incredulous look. "Are you a dog?" He shot her a glare. Pouting and feeling a tad embarrassed by the comment, Sofia retorted, "No, I'm not  dog. I was just saying that-"

"Rossi Sofia..." Chanyeol pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated with her constant demands. "You're here for money, so let's not pretend you care about me. While I may let you share my bed on occasion, I won't hesitate to force a bullet down your throat if you betray me."

Chanyeol's words sent a shiver down her spine. Sofia knew he wasn't making empty threats; she'd witnessed far worse. "I never implied I'd betray you in any way," Sofia slid off the bed and approached Chanyeol, her naked form an attempt to change his mind. "You're a cunning man, and yes," she trailed her fingers seductively down his chest, "I do love the scent of your wealth, Don. I'm just concerned because we've barely had time together since you returned."

"I have businesses to run," Chanyeol slung his shirt over his shoulder. "Leave those worries to me." He walked away from her to a nearby vanity where he retrieved and put on his gold watch. Sofia continued to follow him, unclothed.

"But must you go? Sehun is a formidable enforcer, and you've trained him well. I'm certain he and his soldiers can handle whatever needs to be done," she held him from behind. "Please, Daddy... you've just returned from a trip, and I'd like to spend some time with you. Please." Sofia attempted to coax him, seeking the drug lord's attention. But Chanyeol, unswayed by her charm, sent her a stern warning from over his shoulder and pushed her hands away.

"Let me clarify, Sheba," he referred to her by a code name. "I hired you to work for me, not to question my orders. You're skilled in your seductive arts, but as a Sheba, your role is to gather information from Jackville or Wagon, and that's it." He hooked a finger beneath her chin with his free hand, lifting her face to meet his gaze. "You're not my girlfriend or wife. You're undeniably beautiful, but I have no intention of settling down; family is not in my plans. This will likely be our last encounter." With that, Chanyeol distanced himself, opened his bedside drawer, retrieved five bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them to Sofia, who caught the money eagerly. "D-Don?" she exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise and delight.

"Get dressed and close the door on your way out. I have business to attend to."

"Wow, this is so generous. Can't I wait for your return-"

"Get out! I won't repeat myself, Sofia." Chanyeol's tone oozed dominance and authority, leaving Sofia no choice but to exit promptly.

Rossi Sofia, aged 27, a rising Italian model known for her striking looks and charisma, often affectionately referred to as "Sheba" due to her undeniable sex appeal. Alongside her modeling career, Sofia had a clandestine role as a spy in the realm of the Fire & Light Mafia, working closely with the notorious boss. Their paths first crossed over a year ago in a nightclub in Italy when the drug lord was there for business. Their initial encounter evolved into a passionate affair.

Sofia frequently voiced her dissatisfaction with her job, expressing how demanding and underpaid it was, particularly considering her fledgling career. In response, she revealed her willingness to undertake side gigs to bolster her finances and promote her brand. Chanyeol, ever the generous Don, offered to assist her in exchange for her services as a spy. In gratitude, she occasionally shared his bed when he desired her. Yet their relationship was crystal clear: it was a no-strings-attached arrangement, strictly about physical intimacy and nothing more.

Additionally, she was undeniably attracted to the allure of his wealth. Chanyeol could be exceedingly generous when the mood struck. Given Chanyeol's status as the leader of a formidable Mafia group, the thought of dating him never crossed Sofia's mind, as it would only spell danger for her.

Once Sofia had left, Chanyeol reached for his phone and dialed Sehun's number. "Make him talk," he instructed, retrieving his Maxim 9 pistol equipped with an integrated silencer. He detached the silencer and concealed the firearm at the small of his back before placing the silencer in his jacket pocket. "I'm on my way."

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In the company of his Underboss Minseok and two other Capos, Chanyeol arrived at their clandestine underground bunker, their preferred location for carrying out covert elimination operations. The purpose behind Chanyeol's construction company wasn't just for show; it had allowed him to meticulously construct the facility in a way that would defy any suspicion of criminal activities. They had masked the area with a façade, resembling a warehouse fully stocked with high-end construction and building materials. The compound teemed with heavy equipment such as loading trucks, cranes, and forklifts, further cementing the illusion of legitimate construction activities. Beneath this façade lay a grim reality, a place of no return where their kidnapped rivals were held, executed, and their remains incinerated. It was a place that bore witness to their sins, a place aptly named "hell."

As their vehicle came to a halt, Kim Minseok made a swift move to reach Chanyeol's door, eager to assist him, but Chanyeol was faster, taking care of it himself. The gravity of the operation left no room for casual behavior. Chanyeol strode into the warehouse, seemingly nonchalant, with Minseok closely behind him. The other Capos remained outside, vigilant. Time was of the essence, and operations of this nature were best conducted under the cover of darkness, providing the greatest safety for their illicit endeavors.

Inside the bunker, Sehun twirled a baseball bat in his hand, his gaze fixed upon the partially conscious man before him. The man, who appeared to be in his early thirties, had been apprehended earlier that day while attempting to plant a time bomb in their trucks, with the intent to eliminate their personnel. He had been subjected to a relentless beating after the Don's orders to extract information, yet he remained steadfast, refusing to divulge his identity or disclose his sender. Sehun's tone grew harsh as he confronted the captive. "Aren't you going to talk? Do you have a death wish?"

The man spat out a mixture of blood and saliva, his breathing labored as he struggled to regain his composure. "What's the point of telling you my name or who sent me when you're just going to kill me anyway?"

A sly, almost mocking grin crept across Sehun's face as he absorbed the man's words. "Impressive. You're quite the resilient one," Sehun commended, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I admire your determination." Sehun's amusement was shared with the soldiers present, who joined in laughter. They passed around a last remaining cigarette, a ritual meant to steel their nerves. It wasn't that they lacked empathy or feelings, but within the Mafia world, it was a stark reality—kill or be killed; the choice was theirs to make.

"Omertà!" Minseok's commanding voice cut through the room, signifying the arrival of the Boss. Omertà, the sacred code of silence within the Mafia, was a rule that, if violated, carried the penalty of death. In an instant, the soldiers made way for the Boss's entrance, straightening up and bowing as a sign of respect. However, it was clear that their leader was in no mood for pleasantries; he was here to conclude the matter. The question on his mind was whether the captive had any affiliation with rival factions like Jackville or Wagon. Chanyeol stood before the battered man, securely bound to a chair, bearing the marks of countless beatings.

Chanyeol allowed his gang to continue the physical assault on the man momentarily before issuing an order to cease. He squatted down to the intruder's level, examining him closely. "You're in a pretty dire state," Chanyeol remarked coolly. "But you see, I'm feeling generous today. I can help you, if only you'd trust me. Look at me," he gently lifted the injured intruder's bruised face. "Do I look like a killer to you? I'm more of an angel, wouldn't you say? Killing isn't really my thing."

The intruder's gaze met Chanyeol's with palpable uncertainty. Placing trust in a Mafia leader was a dubious proposition, after all. "Just end it, please. I implore you," he pleaded.

"I'm extending some courtesy to you, so let's not waste time," Chanyeol responded, eager to uncover the identity of the person who had sent the intruder. "Now, I need a name. Share it with me."

"I can't," he cried, voice trembling. The Omertà, the code of silence, was rigorously upheld even in the face of death. But the pivotal question lingered: could one withstand the torment before breaking the oath of Omertà?

Chanyeol leveled a withering stare at the man before him. "Can't, or won't? Choose your words carefully," his patience wore thin with each passing second. "I detest being ignored, and trust me, you don't want to see my anger. This is your final chance. Who. Sent. You?"

"Damn you! Rot in hell, all of you. I won't give you a damn thing!" The man defiantly spat blood directly onto Chanyeol's face.

Without hesitation, Chanyeol's response left the man in utter shock. He calmly wiped the man's blood from his face and rose to his feet. Next, he shed his jacket and tossed it to Minseok, who caught it deftly. Chanyeol then methodically rolled up his sleeves, his intention unmistakable. With a snap of his fingers, Sehun placed a pair of pruning shears in Chanyeol's grasp.

In a swift and forceful motion, Chanyeol clamped onto the man's right hand, locking the pruning shears securely between his fingers. The man's screams pierced the air. "No! Stop! What are you doing? Please!" With a decisive snip, Chanyeol severed the man's middle finger, blood splattering widely.

"AARGHHHH!" The intruder howled in agony as the soldiers, including Sehun, erupted in laughter. Sehun wore a sly grin, deriving an unsettling satisfaction from witnessing their Boss dispense a form of punishment. It was no surprise how another's pain became their macabre source of pleasure.

Blood adorned the grisly scene, but Chanyeol's grim inquisition persisted. "Who sent you?" He demanded in an ominous tone, all pretenses of friendliness discarded. The man, trembling with agony, shook his head frantically. "I CAN'T... I CAN'T DO THIS! PLEASE! PLEASE JUST KILL ME! YOU COWARD!"

Chanyeol remained unswayed, setting his sights on the man's index finger. With brutal determination, he severed it, prompting another torrent of agonized screams. "Will you tell me who sent you, or shall I keep cutting your fingers until you decide to talk?" Chanyeol's voice was as unyielding as his actions.

"OKAY! OKAY! I WILL SPEAK! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME AGAIN. PLEASE!" The man sobbed desperately.

"Well," Chanyeol chuckled dryly. "That would've been much easier if you'd opened up from the start. None of this would've been necessary. Regardless, it's not too late now, is it?" The man shook his head, and Chanyeol persisted, unfazed by the tears. "Isn't it?"

"Nooo!" The man groaned in pain.

Chanyeol smirked, impervious to the man's torment. His primary objective was to extract the name of the Mafia leader who had dispatched him. "I'm listening."

"It's... it's Jac-Jackville."

The response didn't come as a surprise to Chanyeol, who had suspected it from the outset. "Jackville sent you to do this? To kill me, isn't that right?"

"I'm sorry. Please don't tell him I revealed that he's the one who sent me. Please." With that, Chanyeol released the man's hand, no longer interested in further finger amputation now that he'd acquired the information he sought.

"What's your name?"

"Ki-Kim Ji-hun."

"Ah, Kim Ji-hun... quite a lovely name for a foolish person. Give my regards to your boss when you meet him." After extracting a few more insights from Ji-hun, Chanyeol chastised him, "You were never cut out to be a soldier, and you should've never been inducted as one. No matter what torture you endure, you should take your secrets to the grave."

"I messed up, please forgive me," Ji-hun pleaded, wrought with guilt.

"Don't apologize to me," Chanyeol retorted, distancing himself from Ji-hun. "Save your apologies for them." He pointed to his gang. With that, he turned and strode away, tossing the shears to Sehun, who caught them deftly. Sehun and Minseok quickly matched Chanyeol's pace. "What do you think we should do with him, Don?" Sehun inquired.

"Whack him," Chanyeol commanded. "Once it's done, incinerate his remains, and send the ashes back to Jackville, including his severed middle finger."

"Yes, Sir!" Sehun responded, bowing immediately to acknowledge the order. After Chanyeol's departure, he shared the directive with his fellow soldiers, sparking a wave of celebration among them.

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As Chanyeol stormed away from the gruesome scene, he could feel the rage coursing through his veins. He turned to Minseok, who sat in the front seat alongside their driver, and barked, "Cigarette, now!" Minseok didn't hesitate, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, placing them in Chanyeol's trembling hand.

Chanyeol took a deep drag, inhaling the nicotine and releasing it in a thick plume of smoke through his mouth and nose. As the acrid taste filled his senses, his mind wandered back to the horrors he had just witnessed. But then, a haunting memory from his childhood flashed before his eyes—a memory he could never forget. It was the memory of his father's gruesome death, a death at the hands of a ruthless Chinese Mafia lord during a savage duel.

The vivid recollection of his father's murder, as he helplessly watched, sent shivers down his spine. The pain and anger from that moment had fueled him throughout his life, pushing him deeper into the unforgiving world of crime. By the tender age of 14, Chanyeol was already well acquainted with the sight of guns, even if he didn't fully comprehend their workings.

After his father's death, the Chinese Mafia lord had taken him in, keeping him safe and confined within a heavily guarded house. Chanyeol had no choice but to adapt to this new reality, to learn the rules of the dark game that was unfolding around him. This was where he first crossed paths with Jackville, and at that time, their relationship was anything but amicable.

Jackville's resentment toward Chanyeol, a fellow member of the criminal world, had simmered beneath the surface for a long time. Despite his late entry into the Mafia, Chanyeol's rapid rise through the ranks had set the stage for rivalry and competition that would persist for years to come.

Chanyeol was thrust into a world of harsh realities from a young age. By the time he turned 16, he had already embarked on a perilous journey to learn how to wield a gun. The specter of Jackville's threat loomed over him like a dark cloud, compelling the Mafia lord to ensure he could defend himself with deadly precision.

As he reached the tender age of 20, Chanyeol fully grasped the brutal nature of the Mafia world. It was an unforgiving realm where the choice was clear: you either became a killer or faced the prospect of being killed yourself. At times, he found himself longing for a life untainted by the criminal underworld, yearning for the chance to live in peace with someone he loved. But the Mafia had marked him, and once you were marked, there was no escape. Death awaited those who dared to break the Mafia's unwavering codes or tried to leave its clutches.

This was the grim reality he had come to accept, and it was not new to Chanyeol. Even after his own Mafia boss fell victim to treacherous betrayal and deadly ambush, an act he suspected was orchestrated by Jackville, Chanyeol remained vigilant. He had to constantly cover his tracks, dodging relentless detectives and the ever-watchful eyes of the Chinese authorities. In the eyes of these relentless pursuers, he was a prime target, a ghost from the shadows they could not let escape.

A decade had passed since his escape from China, but the shadow of Jackville still haunted him. This latest attack was just another chapter in a long-running vendetta, a reminder that old grudges never truly fade away.

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Speaking of Jackville, this was the rival Mafia group led by the enigmatic Wang Jackson, a man of 30 years. Jackson, shrouded in secrecy, was a Chinese Mafia drug lord whose operations mirrored those of Park Chanyeol but with a distinctive twist. Not only did he control the illicit drug trade, like Chanyeol, but he also held dominion over the most extravagant casinos and exclusive clubs in the country. His empire extended into the realms of illegal weapons importation and distribution, prostitution, smuggling, counterfeiting, and hard drugs. On the other hand, Park Chanyeol maintained a facade of a construction company specializing in roadworks, bridges, and architectural structures. Behind this respectable veneer, he discreetly managed a network of hard drugs and arms trade, discreetly providing loans with exorbitant interest rates. While both were masters of their dark domains, Chanyeol's greater wealth was a constant thorn in Jackville's side, fueling their rivalry.

The recent incident served as a stark reminder for Chanyeol to keep a vigilant watch over his shoulder and harbor trust cautiously. He harbored no trust, not even in his own gang members, a feeling born of necessity. His thoughts momentarily strayed to a $50 million delivery he had orchestrated. "Has Jongin, along with the soldiers, made their return after departing for the delivery?"

"No, Don. They haven't returned," Minseok replied with caution.

"Have you made any attempt to contact the client to ascertain the safe delivery of the merchandise?" Chanyeol inquired, his clenched jaw betraying the fury simmering within him.

Minseok carefully chose his words as he replied, "The client reached out yesterday, expressing their concern over not receiving the goods and their inability to wire the $50 million."

Chanyeol's voice carried an undertone of smoldering anger as he continued, "And what measures have you undertaken to address this, Minseok?"

"Two of our soldiers lost their lives in the operation, leaving Kim Jongin as the sole survivor currently on the run with the package. We are actively searching for Jongin," Minseok explained, the weight of the situation evident in his words. "Our men are scouring train stations and airports, but..."

"But what, Minseok?" Chanyeol's voice bore the crackling tension of imminent eruption.

"There's not a trace of him, Don. Our men combed his place, but he's vanished, and his phones are dead."

"So, you've turned the place upside down in search of Jongin but found nothing, Kim Minseok?" Chanyeol let out a bitter, mirthless laugh.

"Yes, Don."

"Minseok!" Chanyeol's voice grew tighter, irritation simmering.

"Don," Minseok muttered, bowing his head, fully aware of the boss's dissatisfaction. Moments like this demanded treaded caution.

"Is this some kind of twisted joke?" Chanyeol's frown deepened. "Do you grasp the weight of the situation if Jongin doesn't deliver either my cash or my cocaine? Do you understand what it means to lose $50 million?"

"We will take the necessary actions, Don."

"The necessary actions," Chanyeol sneered. "I'm not known for patience, Minseok, and you know it. I won't let go of that sum to anyone. Find Jongin and get him to me."

"Yes, Don."

As evening brought them back to his mansion, Chanyeol didn't waste a second. He stormed out of the car, ignoring all greetings. Not even Kyungsoo's warm welcome could crack his stoic facade. He strode into his room, straight to the bathroom, yearning for a scalding-hot shower. The day had left him marred by the scent of blood, but none of it had been intentional. Survival often dictated disturbing actions.
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Author note 📒

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