La Vie en Noir

prologue | moonlight

Raphael – 14 – Nine Years Ago

"Pass me the Glock," Raphael said, grinning mischievously, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Josephine obliged, placing the weapon in his outstretched hand. The Glock 19 Gen 5 was sleek, its polished black surface gleaming under the harsh lights of the target room. It fit snugly in her palm before she handed it over with a practiced ease.

Raphael took the gun and squared his stance, giving Josephine another look before he fired.

The bullet struck the dummy — straight in the dick.

Raphael doubled over laughing, the sound echoing in the spacious room. Josephine stared blankly for a moment before her own composure broke, her laugh mingling with his.

"Your maturity astounds me," she said, shaking her head.

"Come on, that was funny." Raphael grumbled. "You can't tell me it wasn't."

Josephine shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe it would've been funnier if it were your-"

"Don't even think about it," he interrupted, holding up a hand.

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence. For a brief moment, they weren't heirs to powerful empires, they were just Josephine and Raphael. Growing up in a world of shadows, their friendship was forged through shared secrets, whispered plans, and the constant pressure of their parents' expectations. They had been each other's refuge amidst the chaos, sharing moments of light in a world that often demanded darkness.

The target room bore the scars of their training: harsh fluorescent lights revealing dummies lining the concrete walls, their bodies riddled with bullet holes, and the acrid scent of gunpowder lingered in the air.

The door creaked open, "Excuse me," came the polite voice of Charles, their steward. His graying hair was slicked back, his posture as rigid as ever. "The room is closing for the evening."

Raphael returning the Glock to its designated place. "We're leaving."

Josephine following him out of the room. The estate's corridors stretched endlessly, opulently adorned with dark wood paneling and intricate chandeliers. As they walked, their footsteps were muffled by thick carpets and they exchanged a look.

"My room tonight." Josephine announced, tucking her hands into her pockets.

Raphael raised an eyebrow. "Say please."

"I wasn't asking," she snapped, shooting him a glare.

Josephine's room was elegant, much like its owner. Cream-colored walls were lined with bookshelves and a handful of framed photographs, their glass catching the soft glow of the bedside lamps. She tossed her jacket onto a nearby chair and disappeared into the bathroom to change.

Raphael followed suit, swapping his shirt for a plain T-shirt and sweats. By the time he returned, Josephine was already sprawled across her bed, her brown hair a mess against the silk sheets.

Sliding under the covers, he barely had time to settle before she slung an arm over his waist and hooked her leg over his. He sighed, amused but not surprised. A boy with insomnia and a girl who couldn't sleep without someone to hold — a perfect match.

Hours later, Raphael lay awake. Josephine's breathing had evened out, and moonlight filtered through the curtains, painting her face in soft silver tones. He knew every detail by heart — the curve of her nose, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks, the faint mole near the corner of her mouth.

A sudden sound snapped him out of his thoughts. Footsteps. Heavy and deliberate, echoing down the hall. His body tensed, instinct kicking in.

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. Standing in the doorway was his father, Leonardo, his face twisted in anger. Behind him stood two men, their expressions cold, with one bearing a scar on his face that made him look all the more intimidating.

"Get up Raphael. We're leaving," Leonardo barked as he flicked on the light.

Josephine stirred beside him, her movements sluggish with sleep. Leonardo's gaze darkened as he took in the scene — Josephine's arm draped over Raphael, her hair disheveled, her presence too close for comfort.

"What's going on?" Josephine mumbled, her voice groggy as she sat up. Confusion clouded her expression as she glanced between Raphael and his father, trying to piece together the situation.

The two families had been fighting for months now, and tonight seems to have been the final straw. Gesturing to his men, he added, "This ends now." One held Josephine in place while the other grabbed Raphael by the arm and dragged him out of bed.

"Don't touch him!" Josephine shouted, struggling against the man's grip. Her dark eyes met the man holding Raphael, commanding him to let go, but the man ignored her, his loyalty lying with Leonardo.

Raphael struggled against the hands restraining him, but they didn't budge, so his eyes frantically searched the room for a solution. His eyes met Josephine's and he opened his mouth but no sound escaped. He wanted to promise her that he would find a way, but all he could do was watch as the distance between them grew.

The last thing he saw before the door slammed shut was Josephine's face, her expression shifting from confusion to distress, then to an anger he had never seen before.