Dante: A Dark Mafia Romance Novel

𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄

Sitting in the study, the golden light from the chandelier cast long, menacing shadows across the room, accentuating the dark mahogany of my desk. My fingers dug into the polished wood as the full weight of Ernesto's betrayal sank in. Dom's words echo in my head as do my fathers and brothers voices as they chime their anger and frustrations. He was the chemist I had trusted, the one responsible for cutting and handling the production of our cocaine. But instead of ensuring its purity and potency, he had been diluting it, making it weaker and less effective. It wasn't just an error or negligence—he'd been paid off by somebody to sabotage our product and I would find out who.

The cocaine we distributed, once the gold standard of the market, had become a joke. Ernesto had taken the pure, uncut base and mixed it with synthetic fillers, reducing its potency and our reputation along with it. The very foundation of the Cosatti legacy was under attack, not from an external enemy, but from within. The anger seethed within me, a cold, calculating rage that demanded retribution.

I stared at the family portraits on the walls, feeling the weight of my ancestors' gazes. This betrayal wasn't just a business matter; it was personal. Ernesto had not only endangered our operations but also insulted the honour of the Cosatti name. There was only one way to restore balance and reaffirm my authority. He would pay dearly for this treachery. The reckoning would be swift, brutal, and absolute. The air in the room grew thicker with the promise of vengeance, and I knew that the lesson I was about to impart would echo through the annals of our history.

...

As I stepped out of the car, and walked up the stairs of our family home, anger boiled deep in my system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and I knew exactly where I planned to direct it.

If you fail me, you die. If you betray me, you die. If you insult me, you die.

The basement of the Cosatti estate was cold and damp, its stone walls echoing the ominous drip of water. The faint, flickering light cast eerie shadows, dancing like ghosts in the darkness. Ernesto was bound to a sturdy wooden chair, his wrists and ankles secured with thick rope. Sweat trickled down his face, mixing with the blood from the cut above his brow. He looked up as I descended the stairs, my footsteps deliberate and menacing.

As I ascended the stairs, the heavy door at the top creaked open, casting a sliver of light into the dim basement. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the glow from the hallway, was my father, Eduardo Cosatti. He remained to the side, flanked by the high-ranking members of Cosa Nostra-his consigliare, Ignazio. Luca, Dominic, and Antonio also stood at his side. His posture was resolute, his eyes hard, yet there was an unspoken message in his stance. The weight of leadership and pride settled on my shoulders, and I met his gaze with a nod, acknowledging the profound significance of this moment. Without a word, the understanding was clear among all present:

I was the future of the Cosatti Empire.

I paused at the bottom, letting the silence stretch. The air was thick with the stench of fear, and I relished it. This was my domain, where betrayal was met with swift and brutal justice. I stepped closer, my eyes never leaving Ernesto's. He flinched as I pulled a chair in front of him and sat down, leaning forward slightly.

"You know why you're here, Ernesto," I said, my voice low and cold.

Ernesto's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape that didn't exist. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I let the silence stretch a little longer, savouring his fear.

"I want a name." I continued, my tone even more menacing. "You took my pure, uncut product and turned it into synthetic garbage. You betrayed me Ernesto...You betrayed the Cosatti name."