Amara's PoV
The ballroom was a sight to behold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, golden light over the room. Rich, velvet drapes adorned the walls, and the floor was polished to a mirror-like shine. Guests were already mingling, their faces hidden behind ornate masks of every color and design. The air buzzed with conversation and the soft strains of classical music played by a live orchestra in the corner.
As we stepped into the room, I felt the weight of countless eyes on us. Donte's presence commanded attention, as always, but tonight, there was an added layer of curiosity directed at me. I was the newcomer, the one who had appeared out of nowhere and quickly became a fixture in Donte's world. I could feel their questions, their speculation, even if they didn't voice it aloud.
Donte's arm remained steady beneath mine as he guided me through the room, introducing me to various figures from different mafias and powerful families. I smiled politely, exchanging pleasantries and making mental notes of names and faces, but my mind was only half on the conversations. The other half was still caught up in that moment on the stairs, the feel of Donte's hands on me, and the way his eyes had darkened when we were so close.
Marcel walked beside us, his usual carefree demeanor in place, but I could see the sharpness in his gaze as he scanned the room. He was on high alert, as was Donte, though he hid it well. The masquerade might be a social event, but in our world, gatherings like this were always laced with undercurrents of danger and power plays.
We paused near a table laden with food and drinks, and Donte handed me a glass of champagne. I accepted it with a nod, taking a small sip as I looked around the room. My eyes caught on a figure in the distance, a man standing near the back, his mask hiding most of his features. He was watching us intently, his posture too still, too focused. I could feel the energy rolling off him, dark and charged.
"Donte," I whispered, leaning closer to him. He turned his head slightly, his attention fully on me. "The man near the back, by the pillar...something's off about him."
Donte's gaze flicked to where I indicated, and I saw his expression harden just a fraction. He didn't say anything, but I could feel the subtle shift in his stance, the way his body tensed, ready for anything.
"Stay close to me," he murmured, his voice low and controlled. I nodded, not needing to be told twice.
As the night wore on, the tension in the room began to build. There was a sense of something impending, like the air before a storm. I could feel it in my bones, a prickling awareness that kept me on edge. Donte stayed by my side, his hand occasionally brushing against mine, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he was in control.
But then, everything happened at once.
The music swelled, and as if on cue, a group of masked figures entered the room, their movements too synchronized, too deliberate. The man I had noticed earlier stepped forward, pulling off his mask to reveal a scarred face twisted in a cruel smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he called out, his voice cutting through the chatter. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him. "I believe it's time we make this evening a bit more... interesting."
Before anyone could react, the man snapped his fingers, and chaos erupted. The masked figures moved with deadly precision, pulling out weapons and charging at the guests. Screams filled the air, and I instinctively stepped closer to Donte, my magic already crackling at my fingertips.
"Amara, stay with Marcel," Donte ordered, his voice sharp as he drew his weapon. "Take down anyone who comes near you."
I nodded, my heart pounding as I turned to find Marcel. He was already moving, his usual smile replaced by a grim determination. He caught my eye and nodded, a silent promise that we would get through this.
But as the first wave of attackers reached us, I knew this wouldn't be easy. I let my magic flow, a protective barrier forming around Marcel and me as I began to fend off the assailants. My hands moved instinctively, casting spells and using my abilities to throw them back, but there were too many, and the room was quickly descending into chaos.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Donte fighting his way through the crowd, heading straight for the scarred man who had started all of this. His movements were precise, lethal, but even he was being pushed to his limits.
"Amara, watch out!" Marcel shouted, but before I could react, one of the masked figures broke through my barrier, a knife gleaming in his hand as he lunged at me.
Time seemed to slow. I could see the blade coming towards me, but there was no fear, only a cold, calculated anger. I reached out with my magic, stopping the man in his tracks and sending him flying across the room. But as I turned back to the fray, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
The scarred man had Donte cornered, a gun aimed directly at his chest.
"Donte!" I screamed, but it was too late. The shot rang out, echoing through the room like a death knell.
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The Mafiaso And The AD 1024
RomanceIn the heart of New York City lies "Elysium," a bar that serves as a safe heaven for supernatural beings who live hidden among humans. The establishment is owned by Donte Blackwood, a ruthless yet surprisingly merciful mafia boss who rules the city...