Dante Castelli.

The hot steam filled the bathroom, clinging to the grimy tiles and cracked mirror. My muscles relaxed under the scalding water as I gripped the submissive body beneath me.

Moans and muffled cries echoed through the room, but none of it mattered.

I was simply finishing what I had started.

I shoved the sweaty body down against the cold floor and stepped away without a second thought. Water ran down my chest, sliding over the tattoos etched into my bronzed skin. I grabbed the towel and started drying my long hair, already tied in its usual bun.

Behind me, Viper’s irritating voice came in a whimper that bordered on sobbing.

“You were too rough, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, patience hanging by a thread.

Does he seriously think he can call me that?

Annoyance shot down my spine.

I kept drying off, ignoring his pitiful whining. I grabbed the folded black uniform from the counter and began getting dressed. Every seam of that fabric was a reminder of my status in this place. A title few dared to challenge.

Once I buttoned the shirt, I turned a cold gaze to the boy still sprawled on the floor.

“That was the last time I fucked you. Consider yourself lucky.”

He froze. His eyes widened in shock, panic etched into his pale face. His lips trembled, struggling to form words.

“W-Why? What did I do wrong?” He choked out, crawling toward me. “Please don’t do this, Reaper.”

I sighed, already bored with the pathetic display.

“I have a new toy.”

His blinking sped up, trying to process the words.

“And he…” I continued, adjusting my sleeves, “is someone I’ve waited a long time to claim.”

Viper’s face twisted in despair, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore. I turned my back and walked out of the bathroom, feeling his desperate gaze burning into me.

But he no longer mattered.

My name is Dante Castelli. Forty years old. A name once feared by many, respected by all. A symbol of absolute power.

People call me a mobster. They’re wrong. Mobsters follow codes, respect hierarchy, and build alliances.

I don’t.

I’m worse.

I’m the leader of a cartel. And not just any cartel. My empire stretches far beyond drugs and guns. I trafficked people. Women, young men, even children—auctioned off in private events accessible only to the world’s most powerful elite. Politicians. Tycoons. Influential criminals. They all did business with me.

The mafia kills when necessary. The cartel kills for pleasure. The mafia operates in silence. The cartel spreads terror in the streets. The mafia builds connections. The cartel burns anyone who refuses to obey.

I still run everything. The only difference is that my empire now has concrete walls and iron bars. But nothing has changed. Business remains untouched, my men carry out my orders, and money flows like blood through the veins of this criminal world.

Betrayal came from where I least expected it. The man I once called my right hand sold me out to the FBI like I was some disposable dog. A mistake that cost him his life.

I was captured in Tenebrae, one of the territories I ruled with an iron fist. But my true base has always been Eldoria—the heart of it all. From there, I ran human trafficking networks, drug routes, arms deals, and laundering fortunes through shell companies and corrupt politicians.

The FBI had no clue, but Eldoria belongs to me. Every city, every street, every miserable soul walking its pavement served my empire in some way.

Cops? Politicians? Judges? They all eat out of my hand. Even locked up, my influence remains untouched. The business never stopped. I still decide who lives and who dies.

Because I’m not an ordinary man.

I’m a god in this underworld.

One command, and I could walk out of here. Every obstacle eliminated. But something happened. Something that made every second in this hell worth it.

My toy finally arrived.

The wait was long. Agonizing. I dreamed of him. Fantasized. Every thought, every sick desire, every heartbeat fueled by him. And now, fate—twisted and cruel—delivered Elijah straight to me.

In here, he’s mine. No wandering eyes will be tolerated. No filthy hands will touch him without losing fingers. Any challenge will be crushed before it even begins.

Maybe he forgot me. But I never forgot him.

That day.

That brief, meaningless moment for him—but for me, it was enough to set my skin on fire and drag me to the edge of madness. He helped me without even knowing who I was. A simple gesture to someone like him… but for me, it was a sentence.

Since then, every inch of him has belonged to me. That kind smile burned into my memory. Those innocent, wide blue eyes that looked at me without fear.

His soft voice calling me “sir,” clueless about the abyss he was falling into. That pristine, delicate skin… just waiting to be marked.

That day, I made an irreversible decision. Once my business was handled, I would come for him. I would take him, break him, and rebuild him into exactly what I wanted.

I would hear him gasp my name through clenched teeth and crush my mouth against his until every breath belonged to me. I’d sink my teeth into his skin until there wasn’t a single inch left untouched.

I’ve dreamed of this moment so many times I’ve lost count.

And now… fate handed him to me. He landed here. In my domain.

Where there’s no escape.

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