♥ Chapter 3♥

Dominic Castellano.

6:50 PM – Casino – Castellano City

Friday

I put on my black shirt, buttoning it with a calmness that brutally contrasts with the chaos that just unfolded in the room. The lifeless body of the woman lies stretched out on the rumpled sheets, her eyes still frozen in terror. The other one is curled up at the edge of the bed, sobbing and trembling like a leaf in the wind.

I grab my tie, adjusting it around my collar with a quick, precise motion. Without breaking eye contact, I toss a bundle of cash onto the bed, letting the bills scatter around her.

"If your friend hadn’t screamed so much, she’d still be alive," I say, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. There’s no remorse, no empathy in my tone—just cold, unwavering finality.

She sobs even louder, but I’ve already lost interest in her.

With the final adjustments to my attire complete, I walk to the door, leaving behind the muffled sound of her weeping. Outside, two of my personal guards stand watch, their expressions as impassive as ever.

We exchange no words. They know their job—to protect, not to ask questions.

I stride down the casino hallway, the sharp sound of my shoes echoing against the polished marble floors. The atmosphere is alive with the buzz of gambling, fake laughter, and the rhythmic clinking of chips.

My name is Kim , but here, I’m known as Dominic Castellano. A name inherited from the former leader of the Castellano mafia. I’m forty years old and Asian—Korean, to be precise. Standing at seven feet and one inch, my presence is imposing, as if the very air around me recoils in my wake. I was born in South Korea to parents unworthy of the title. Drug addicts, they sold me to feed their own demons. Fortunately—or unfortunately—I was placed under the care of Marcos Castellano, the former mafia leader, from whom I inherited this empire.

The road to where I stand today was a constant battle. Every day was a fight for survival—kill or be killed. My companions were both my enemies and my allies, and the only goal was to remain standing. My body carries the marks of this life—scars that tell stories of betrayal and violence.

Ten years ago, I covered those scars with tattoos. A massive golden dragon sprawls across my back, a symbol of power and resilience. Skulls intertwine along my arms, a constant reminder of the death that has always surrounded me. On my chest, an eagle in full flight, wings spread wide as if ready to strike—a warning that I am always prepared for war.

I care about nothing but my empire. This country is mine—every street, every building, every soul breathing under my dominion. Castellano City is not just a name; it’s a legacy built with blood and iron. I have never fallen in love and never allowed myself to be weakened by something as useless as affection. Feelings are a liability, a distraction I cannot afford.

Five years ago, some fool in Italy tried to challenge my rule. The leader of the Italian mafia let himself be swayed by love for a weak woman. What a pathetic mistake. Kidnapping her was easy; what came next was simply a lesson. I kept her captive, breaking her piece by piece, until there was nothing left. When I finally killed her in front of him, he begged for mercy. None was given.

The war that followed was brutal but predictable. For three weeks, my empire and Italy burned. In the end, I was the one left standing. The Italian mafia now belongs to me—a trophy of my victory. There’s no room for mistakes in my world, and love is the greatest mistake of all.

Sérgio is already handling the body, as efficient as ever. I take another drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke escape slowly, savoring the absolute control I have over this place.

As the atmosphere slowly returns to normal, Jack, another one of my trusted guards, approaches with the posture of a man who knows that every word must be carefully chosen.

"My lord, today is also Mr. Leandro Cooper’s,he is at the main club tonight." he informs me, his voice firm yet respectful.

A cold smile tugs at my lips. I put out my cigarette in the nearest ashtray, the ashes falling in slow, delicate movements. I turn to face him, my eyes narrowing, gleaming with cruel anticipation.

"Let’s go," I say, my voice heavy with dark satisfaction. "It’s been a while since I’ve collected the payments myself."

Jack nods briefly, fully understanding what that means. The very thought of me handling the collections personally must already have Leandro Cooper shaking—even if he doesn't yet know what's coming.

I take another step forward, a wicked grin spreading across my face, feeling the anticipation of inflicting pain pulse within me, almost uncontrollable.

I can’t wait to hurt someone.

There’s something delicious about seeing the fear in people’s eyes, hearing their screams as they beg for mercy that will never come. And tonight, I already know—none of them will have the money to pay me.

Even if they did, I would still take pleasure in making them suffer.

The cruel satisfaction of knowing their fear will be real, that their screams will echo unanswered, sets my blood ablaze.

I love to kill. I feel no pity, no remorse, no empathy.

To me, killing is an art, an indescribable pleasure.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman, young or old. Death—especially when delivered in the worst way possible—is a power that few can comprehend.

And I live for it.

Watching the life drain from someone, witnessing the terror in their eyes as their last hope crumbles—it’s a kind of absolute control that feeds me.

And tonight, I am starving.

7:50 PM – Castellano City

"Leandro Cooper is at the main club tonight,"Jack informed me, his voice steady as he navigated through the city. ""Our men have already been ordered to bring him to the VIP room."

I nodded slightly, a satisfied smile creeping onto my lips.

"Perfect. Let’s teach him the true meaning of the word debt."

The night was far from over.