Lost In The Darkness {Edited}

Chapter~59

A/N: It is a short chapter, but marks my return from the slump. I hope you enjoy it. Also, only 11 more chapters left, then I will end this book. :))

Dante's POV:

I ordered Angelo and Armano to stick to Nic like shadows, guarding him at all times. Vince and Lorenzo rode with me back to the mansion. Dad said he'd be here too—he's either inside already or about to pull up.

As the three of us stepped out of the car and headed in, the scene was just as gruesome as the photo. Blood splattered everywhere, painting the room in crimson. Marco's mutilated body lay in the same grotesque position, his head still dangling from the chandelier like some sick, twisted decoration.

"Holy hell," Lorenzo muttered, his eyes sweeping the room. He was probably looking for his cat. Once he was sure Whiskey wasn't anywhere near this nightmare, he exhaled in relief, but the tension lingered.

"Who the hell can do this?" Vince's voice was tight, his eyes locked on the grotesque scene in front of us.

"Whoever it was, they weren't just killing Marco—they were sending a message," Lorenzo muttered, his tone dark.

"And we both know there's only one person with the balls and motive to pull this off," Vince added, voicing what was already pounding in my head.

"Giordano," I spat, the name leaving my lips like a curse. My hands curled into fists, knuckles white as the anger pulsed through me, threatening to explode.

"Wrong guess." Dad's voice cut through the tension like a blade as he stepped into the room, his eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the carnage.

"What do you mean, wrong?" I snapped, my eyebrow arching in disbelief. "Who else would dare pull something like this?"

"I recognize this... style." Dad rubbed his temple, his expression twisted with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "This isn't just some act of violence. It's a signature. And there's only one person who leaves this kind of calling card."

He gestured to a guard stationed nearby, his fingers flicking in a silent command. The guard leaned in as Dad whispered something, then disappeared upstairs.

"Dad, who are we dealing with here?" I pressed, my patience hanging by a thread.

"Just wait," he said, his voice eerily calm. "You'll understand soon enough."

A few minutes later, the guard returned, but the soft click of heels on the stairs drew my attention. Vanessa descended with a casual grace, her expression completely unbothered by the bloodbath that had turned the mansion into a crime scene. Her eyes swept the room, not even sparing Marco's mangled corpse a glance. Instead, she strolled straight toward Dad, like she had all the time in the world.

"Why the hell did you call me, old man?" she snapped, her tone sharp as glass.

Dad's eyes narrowed, but he stayed calm. "I need to ask you something," he said, his voice tight.

"You could've texted." She scowled, arms crossing defiantly. "I was trying to sleep."

Dad's jaw clenched, but instead of snapping back, he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Forgive me, my queen, for disturbing your precious rest," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He gestured to the gory scene, blood still glistening under the lights. "But as you can see, the matter is a bit urgent."

Vanessa's eyes lazily followed his gesture, barely flickering at the sight of Marco's dismembered body. Her lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Seems like the matter doesn't even have a hand," she quipped, eyes locking onto Marco's severed arm lying a few feet from the rest of him. She stifled a laugh, but her amusement was unmistakable.

That was it. The dam inside me broke.

"Is everything a fucking joke to you?" I exploded, stepping toward her with a fury I could barely contain. My voice echoed through the room, raw and venomous. "My most trusted man—someone I've known for years—is lying here tortured and butchered like an animal, sent as a message, and you're cracking jokes?" My fists clenched so hard I could feel my nails digging into my palms, the rage pounding in my chest like a war drum.

Vanessa didn't even flinch. Her eyes slowly slid to me, bored, as if my outburst was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. "I didn't come here to deal with your anger management issues, brother," she said coldly, voice steady, cutting through my rage like a knife. "So why don't you chill out before you blow a gasket?"

I took a step closer, fury coursing through me like fire. It took every ounce of control I had not to grab her by the throat and shake her until some sense knocked into that smug face.

"Vanessa," I growled, the warning clear, "you're on thin ice."

But she just shrugged, looking past me like I wasn't even there, her lips twisted in a smirk. "Tell me what's up, oldie," she said, turning back to Dad, her voice filled with irritation. "The faster you tell me, the faster I get back to bed."

I wanted to tear her apart. Every muscle in my body was tensed, coiled like a spring, ready to snap. My hands itched to grab her, to shake her out of that smug, detached arrogance. It took everything—every ounce of restraint I had—not to cross that line. Or maybe... maybe it wasn't restraint. Maybe, deep down, I knew I didn't have it in me to hurt her. Not a single hair on her head. Not Vanessa. Even though she was pushing me to the brink, mocking everything I stood for, there was still that part of me that couldn't cross that line.

And that only made my anger worse, feeding it like gasoline on fire.

Dad sighed heavily, his gaze hardening as he pointed toward Marco's mutilated body. "What's the meaning of this?"

Vanessa tilted her head, feigning ignorance. "Meaning of what?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet, but there was something dangerous lurking beneath it. She was playing games—dancing around his words—and it was starting to drive me insane. Since when did she become this infuriatingly evasive? Where was the blunt, no-nonsense sister I know her to be? This shift in her, this complete 180 in her personality, was unnerving.

Dad's patience, already worn thin, snapped. "Why the hell would you do this to Marco?!" he barked, his voice booming, the controlled veneer finally cracking. His words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

Vanessa did this? My sister? The question ricocheted in my head, disbelief crashing over me. I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

Vanessa just smiled, a slow, almost playful curl of her lips. "You don't think it's pretty?" she asked, her voice laced with a sick sort of amusement as if she was showing off a piece of art instead of a massacre.

"Pretty?" I spat, my voice dripping with disdain as I stepped closer, the rage boiling inside me threatening to spill over. "You think this is pretty? What happened to you, Vanessa? What could have happened that you became this? This unrecognizable monster. I don't even know you now."

She smirked, an unsettling glint in her eyes. "Maybe because you don't actually know me," she shot back, her tone mocking, as if she reveled in the chaos she had created.

"You think this is some kind of game?" I demanded, incredulous. "People are dead, and you're standing there like you're critiquing a painting!"

Her smile widened, sending a chill down my spine. "Oh, darling, you have no idea what kind of masterpiece I'm capable of creating. And this? This is just the beginning."

x--------------------x

A/N:- Did you like the chapter?

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Ms_CornSalad❤️