The flames roared, devouring everything in their path. A young man, barely in his early twenties, stood on the edge of the inferno, his heart pounding. The building around him was a haze of heat and smoke, but his focus was on one thing: the desperate screams coming from inside the fire.

"No! I'm coming!" he shouted, his voice cracking as he fought to push through the searing heat.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw it—a tiny, trembling hand emerging from the flames, reaching out for the one last hope. A wave of relief washed over him, momentarily preventing the terror gripping his heart. He lunged forward, his fingers outstretched to grasp the delicate hand. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as he felt the warmth of the her little palm against his.

"Brother! Izzy, help me!" Her voice was frantic, filled with terror, as the small fingers strained to reach him.

"Shhh I've got you, baby!"The man cried, his voice laced with hope. His fingers almost brushed against her hand, the thought of saving her flooding his mind.

But just as he was about to pull the little one free in the blink of an eye, everything changed.. From within the depths of the fire, another pair of hands—ghastly and menacing—shot out and wrapped around her waist. The man's eyes widened in horror as the faceless figure yanked her back.

"I'm taking her with me," the figure's voice was a chilling whisper, echoing ominously through the roaring fire.

"No! No, fuck no! Don't you dare touch her!" The man screamed, his voice breaking as he watched helplessly. He lunged forward, trying to break the figure's grip, but the flames surged higher, pushing him back.

"Izzy, no! Save me! Please, help me!" Her voice grew more desperate, piercing through the night as the figure pulled her deeper into the fire. The small hand reached out one last time before being swallowed by the flames.

The man screamed, his voice raw with anguish as he tried to reach further, but it was too late. The fire swallowed her little frame whole, leaving him standing helplessly on the brink, the echoes of the child's cries still ringing in his ears.

The man's heart shattered, and he let out a primal scream, a sound born of despair and helplessness. "Noooo!"

"HAVEN!"

The man cried out, the name ripping from his throat as he sat up with a jolt, snapped awake, his body drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His chest heaving, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to him like the stench of burning flesh. The room was dark, the shadows long and ominous, but it was the darkness inside him that truly shook him to the core.

"She is in a better place"

"She is in a better place"

"She is in a better place"

"With mom and dad"

He sat there, his body trembling as he tried to calm himself. "She's in a better place," he whispered again hoarsely, his voice shaky. "She's in a better place. She's with Mom and Dad. She's in a better place..."

He chanted the words like a mantra, over and over, trying to convince himself that what he had just seen was nothing more than a nightmare, a twisted figment of his mind tormenting him in the dead of night.

But deep down, a cold, gnawing dread told him otherwise.

As he repeated the words, they began to lose their meaning, the hollow comfort they once provided slipping away.

His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he clenched his fists, trying to bring himself back in the present, to force away the suffocating fear.

If only he knew how his nightmares were her constant reality.

Calming himself, he looked around, disoriented, and reached for his phone on the nightstand. The screen glowed faintly in the pitch-black room, displaying the time: 3:30 AM.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. There was no way he was going back to sleep now. The images from his nightmare were too fresh, too vivid. He needed to do something, anything, to clear his mind.

The man threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the cold, hardwood floor. He was about to head to the gym when a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

"Another nightmare, Iz?"

Izrael froze, his head snapping toward the doorway. Standing there, silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway, was Rafael, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.

Izrael quickly masked his surprise, morphing his features into a neutral expression. "No, it's just my schedule, Rafe," he lied, his voice steady but unconvincing.

Rafael didn't push the issue, though he knew better. "Right," he said with a faint, knowing smile, taking a sip of his coffee. "Why are you awake?"

Izrael countered, deflecting the attention back to his brother. "Couldn't sleep," Rafael shrugged, his tone casual, but there was an underlying tension in his eyes.

"You hitting the gym?" Rafael asked, and Izrael nodded in response, already moving toward the door.

"Wait for me," Rafael said, setting his coffee cup down on a nearby table. Izrael paused, allowing his brother to join him as they made their way to the gym in the mansion's lower level.

As they walked down the dimly lit corridor, Izrael broke the silence. "Any news on Mike?"

Rafael glanced at his brother, noting the barely concealed concern in his voice. "Nothing much. He's still keeping tabs on Vincent's woman and his second-in-command. What was his name again? Oh, right... Hayden."

Izrael's expression darkened, his mind clearly turning over the implications. "Hayden," he repeated, his voice laced with contempt. "Let's hope Mike keeps his focus where it belongs."

When the two brothers entered the gym, they were both taken aback by the sight before them. Gabriel was already there, working up a sweat on the leg curler. The surprise was palpable—Gabriel was never a morning person.

"Morning, brothers," Gabriel greeted them, though the familiar spark of mischief in his eyes was dimmed by something else.

"Good morning, Gabe," Rafael responded, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and concern. "How come you're up so early?"

"I never slept, Rafe," Gabriel admitted, his voice uncharacteristically flat as he paused his workout to take a quick break.

Izrael, who had already started his cardio routine, didn't bother with pleasantries. "Another whore of yours keeping you up all night?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but there was no real humor in the gesture. "I wish," he retorted, taking a swig from his water bottle. "But No, it was our dear brother Mike I spent the night trying to knock some sense into."

Rafael's brow furrowed with concern. "What happened?" he asked, his voice steady but with an edge of worry.

Gabriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Your little brother, Michael Stefano Romanov, is getting far too involved with our enemy's chick."

"Vincent's woman?" Izrael's eyes narrowed as he increased the speed on the treadmill, his irritation clear. "Fucker. Tell him to find another girl to play around with, not our enemy's woman."

"Believe me, I tried," Gabriel muttered, clearly frustrated. "He's become obsessed with her... keeps ranting about how fucked up Hayden is, forcing his sister to marry Vincent who is twice her age, and how he's seen bruises on her. He's convinced Hayden, her brother is the one beating her."

Rafael scoffed, his lips curling in disgust. "So, Vincent is a certified pedophile too. How lovely."

Izrael's voice was cold, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Tell Mike to mind his own fucking business and stick to our plan. One screw-up, and I'll make sure he regrets it. I would not let him fuck everything up over some damn woman who he is losing his sanity to"

Gabriel nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of seriousness. "I already warned him. But honestly, it's not that unusual for someone in our world to hit their own. It's the mafia—brutality comes with the territory."

"Try saying that in front of Luce," Rafael said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "He'll have your head for that kind of nonchalance."

Gabriel chuckled darkly. "Yeah, luce always had that moral compass of his, hasn't he? But he's not here right now, is he?"

The trio spent the next couple of hours in the gym, pushing their bodies to the limit, using the physical exertion as a way to burn off the tension that clung to them like a second skin. Each of them lost in their own thoughts, their own private battles.

As they wrapped up their workout, they were heading back to their rooms for a shower when they spotted a familiar man in his early 20s entering the mansion. He moved quickly, a sense of urgency in his stride, an envelope clutched in his hand.

"Where are you rushing off to, Matias 2.0?" Gabriel called out, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

The man ignored Gabriel completely, his focus unwavering as he continued on his path.

"This little sh—" Gabriel began, his irritation clear, but Izrael cut him off with a smirk.

"It's high time you make peace with Ares," Izrael said, his tone dry. "He's the best assassin out there, little boy."

Gabriel huffed, clearly unimpressed. "As if he'd get away with murdering me. He wouldn't dare."

Rafael's phone pinged, drawing his attention. He checked the message, his expression shifting slightly as he read it. "Luce wants to see us in his office," Rafael informed them, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

ARES VALENTINO ROSSI
Age - 24

Hope you liked the chapter ❤️