Noctavia was a city constructed upon deceptions. The affluent showcased their wealth in the dazzling glow of neon lights. The destitute concealed themselves in the shadows of alleyways. Those in power governed the city with hands tainted by blood. Beneath the luxury, amid the nightlife and the hollow assurances of riches, power was the sole factor that truly mattered.
Power was not granted. It was not inherited. It was taken.
Lilith Castellano understood this better than anyone else. By the age of eighteen, she had already become a legend. Some labeled her as an enigma.
Others labeled her as a monster. With her captivating blue eyes and raven-black hair, she possessed a beauty seemingly intended for art. Yet beneath that elegance lay something far more dangerous. A mind as sharp as a blade. A will forged in flames. A heart that had long since hardened to steel. Lilith did not rise to power by mere luck. She seized it with relentless determination. Inside the grand halls of Casa Castellano, golden chandeliers illuminated marble floors and walls adorned with velvet.
The air was thick with expectation. Smoke from extravagant cigars curled toward the ceiling, mingling with the scent of aged whiskey. Men who had built their empires through crime and deceit gathered around an elongated mahogany table. Their gazes were fixed on the young woman at the head.
Some viewed her with curiosity. Others with disdain. This was not the first time her authority had been tested. It would not be the last. A broad-shouldered man with a scar on his jaw leaned in closer. He smirked as he slammed a knife against the table. His voice dripped with arrogance.
"A little girl like you has no business leading men like us," he mocked. "The mafia is a man's world." A few others snickered. Their laughter was low and laced with contempt. Lilith simply smiled. A slow, knowing smile danced on her lips. She set her wine glass down. Her fingers gently tapped against the crystal. Her nails, painted a deep red, gleamed in the soft light. When she spoke, her voice was soft. Almost alluring.
"That's funny," she murmured. "I was just considering that men like you have no place in my world." The laughter stopped. The room fell silent. The man facing her narrowed his eyes. His grip on the knife tightened.
"Do you believe you can intimidate me, girl?" he scoffed.
"I've slit the throats of men twice your size. You are just a spoiled little princess pretending to be queen.
" Lilith tilted her head. "Spoiled?" she echoed. "Perhaps. But pretending? " She let out a soft laugh. "No. I never pretend. " She raised her hand. A single snap of her fingers resonated. The door behind the man swung open. Two of Lilith's guards moved forward.
They advanced swiftly, grabbing him by the shoulders before he could respond. His chair scraped against the marble as he struggled, but their grip remained strong.
"What the hell are you doing?" he spat.
Lilith leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Did you know," she contemplated, "that I detest cleaning blood in this room? It wrecks the floors. Stains are excruciatingly hard to remove.
" The man stiffened. "But luckily for you," she continued, "I have another place in mind. " The doors swung open again. This time, the icy night air flooded the room. Beyond the open entrance, the dark waters of Noctavia's harbor stretched toward the horizon. Realization flickered in the man's eyes. He fought harder, but it was in vain.
Lilith exhaled. "Throw him in." The guards obeyed without hesitation. A scream. A splash. Silence. The waves swallowed him entirely. Lilith let out a quiet breath. She reached for her pistol, running her fingers along the sleek metal before setting it down beside her wine glass. The cold steel shimmered under the golden light. Then she raised her gaze and slowly scanned the room. Eyes filled with dread stared back at her. Good. "Does anyone else want to advise me on how to manage my empire?" she asked. Silence. She took another sip of her wine. The rich taste of red grapes and iron lingered on her tongue.
Then, the vibration of a phone shattered the stillness. Lilith turned her attention to the device resting on the table next to her. The screen lit up with a number she recognized. A number that hadn't called in years. She picked it up and held it to her ear. "Lilith Castellano," she answered. A deep voice echoed from the other end. "We need to talk." Lilith's grip on the phone tightened slightly. She hadn't heard that voice since the day she took control. Since the moment she buried the last vestiges of the old era and forged a new one in her name.
"There is nothing to discuss," she replied coldly. A low chuckle followed. "Oh, but there is," the voice countered. "You took something that wasn't yours. And now, I'm taking it back." The call ended. For the first time that night, Lilith frowned. She set the phone down, her mind already weighing the possibilities. Nobody had dared to confront her in over a year. Not after what she had accomplished.
But the past often resurfaced from the depths. And if it thought it could overthrow her throne, it would soon learn.
Lilith Castellano had no intention of surrendering anything.