The Mafiaso And The AD 1024

The Call

Her eyes, usually so composed, were now dark with a fury I hadn't seen before.

The rival gang members froze, their attention drawn to her as if they sensed the shift in power.

My assailant paused, momentarily distracted, and that hesitation was all I needed.

I shoved him away and staggered to my feet, blood seeping through the tear in my shirt.

But Amara had already moved past me, her gaze fixed on the rival gang.

Her presence was commanding, her aura dark and foreboding.

She raised her hands slightly, and the air around her seemed to hum with an unnatural energy.

I watched, transfixed, as Amara began to weave her dark magic. It was nothing subtle spells l'd seen her use before; this was raw,

unbridled power. The rival gang members started to convulse their
hands flying to their heads as if trying to ward off an invisible attack.

Their screams filled the warehouse, a haunting sound that echoed off the metal walls.

Blood began to seep from their ears, their noses, and their eyes.

Their screams grew louder, more desperate, but there was no mercy in Amara's expression.

She was relentless, her power curling around them like a vice.

I could see it in her eyes-the darkness that had taken hold, the ancient force she'd unleashed.

As the blood poured from them, the men dropped to their knees, their bodies convulsing violently.

It was as if she was reaching inside them, tearing apart their very minds.

The sickening sound of their bones cracking, their skulls caving in, reverberated through the air as their brains ed by the sheer force of her power.

And then, one by one, they fell. Lifeless. The warehouse fell silent, save for the soft sound of blood dripping onto the concrete floor.

The stench of death was overwhelming, but it didn't seem to faze Amara.

I stood there, breathless, staring at the carnage around us.

My men, the few who had survived, looked on in shock, their weapons still raised but useless in the face of such
overwhelming power.

The rival gang was gone, wiped out in mere moments. Amara turned to face me, her dark eyes locking onto mine.

There was a flicker of something concern, maybe? before her expression settled back into its usual calm.

She stepped closer, her gaze flicking to the wound on my chest.

"You're hurt," she said, her voice soft but lacer an undercurrent of something deeper.

I looked down at the cut, the pain almost a distant memory after what l'd just witnessed.

"I've had worse." She studied me for a moment longer before turning her attention back to the carnage she'd wrought.

"You shouldn't have called me, Donte."

"Maybe not," I admitted, wiping the blood from my knife. "But I'm gladI did."

Her eyes met mine again, and for a brief moment, the darkness in them softened.

"You don't know what you're playing with," she warned, her voice barely above a whisper. "This power... it's not something you can control."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. "I know. But right now, I'm more interested in keeping you close.

Whatever this i... it's better on my side than against me." She didn't reply, but the look she gave me spoke volumes.

There were secrets still buried deep within her, layers of power and danger that I had only just begun to understand.

But I knew one thing for certain: Amara Petrova was not someone to be taken lightly.

And as the cold sea air blew through the warehouse, I realized that I had only scratched the surface of the storm that she truly was.

Amara's PoV

The warehouse loomed before me, a dark silhouette against the night sky, the distant sound of waves crashing against the nearby shore.

The echoes of gunfire and the shouts of men grew louder as I approached, but all l could focus on was the pull of power within me, urging me forward.

I reached the door, my heart pounding in my chest-not from fear, but from the anticipation of what was to come.

I pushed it open and stepped inside, the scent of blood hitting me like a physical force.

The metallic tang filled the air, mingling with the acrid smell of gunpowder and sweat.

Bodies lay Scattered across the concrete floor, some writhing in pain, others disturbingly still.

And then I saw him-Donte, standing in the middle of the chaos, blood splattered across his shirt.

His men were rious states of disarray, struggling to hold their own against the rival gang. But

Donte.. he was different. He was alive, but just barely.

His eyes met mine, and I saw the desperation in them, the flicker of something darker that hadn't been there before.

A man stood in front of him, a vicious grin on his face as he held a knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light.

The point of the knife hovered just inches from Donte's chest, ready to plunge into his heart. I didn't hesitate.

The sight of Donte, covered in blood and on the brink of death, triggered something deep within me.

A darkness I had long kept buried, a force I rarely allowed myself to use. But tonight, that darkness was my weapon.

I began to channel my inner power, feeling the familiar coldness seep into my veins, spreading through me like ink in water. The warehouse seemed to darken further as I let the magic flow.

The shadows deepen and twist around me as if they are alive in me. My heart beat steadily, the rhythm of the dark magic building within me.

"Get away from him," I said, my voice low and deadly calm.

The man with the knife barely had time to react before I unleashed the full force of my power.

I didn't need to speak any
incantations or make elaborate gestures.

The dark magic responded to my will, a force as ancient as the earth itself.

The man's eyes widened in shock as his body convulsed, the knife slipping from his grip.

He stumbled backwards, blood suddenly pouring from his nose, his ears, his eyes.

His hands flew to his head as if trying to hold his skull together, but it was too late.

I felt the darkness surge through him, tearing apart his mind, severing the delicate threads of life.

He let out a strangled scream, his body shuddering violently before collapsing to the floor.

He was dead before he hit the ground.
The other me turned to me,
in the warehouse wide with fear.