As they stepped out of the cars, all eyes turned toward them. It wasn't just curiosity, it was the weight of expectation, of fear, of whispered rumors coming to life in real ti.
Jas Bellini looked exactly how people imagined him.
Dressed in a sharp black suit, flanked by his underbosses and right-hand n, he moved with a quiet authority that made it impossible to ignore him. He didn't need to declare who he was, his presence alone made it clear. He was a king in the underworld, and today, he had arrived like royalty.
But soon, the gazes shifted. Not to his n, not to the bodyguards, but to the small girl holding his hand.
Dressed in mourning black, wearing an elegant yet respectful hat with tinted sunglasses that shielded her young eyes from the world, Charlotte looked like a princess in a funeral procession.
A black princess.
A princess whose bloodline carried an fallen empire's weight.
"Why are they staring?" She asked, her small fingers tightening around Jas's hand.
"Because of you." He said calmly, his eyes sweeping over the watching crowd.
"?" She repeated, confused.
"You are the last Augustus."
Charlotte followed his gaze, and only then did she truly see what he ant. Those watching eyes no longer held just curiosity. So were respectful, so afraid, but many... many looked at her like hunters.
Predators sizing up their prey.
anwhile, Hector, walking a step behind Jas, furrowed his brows. His sharp gaze scanned the sea of people, his instincts kicking in. He was searching for sothing...no, soone.
Sothing was off.
"What?" Bella asked, her voice quiet but alert, picking up on his sudden shift. She was walking just behind Charlotte, her posture rigid, ready.
"I don't see any agents. Not even one." Hector whispered back. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "That's strange."
Bella didn't reply, but he saw it, her shoulders stiffened just a bit more.
She understood.
Sothing wasn't right.
anwhile, as they entered the cetery in another car sat none other than Silas Ricci, his son Aubrey Ricci, and their n.
"We're really worried about that boy?" Aubrey asked, letting out a short laugh. "He's younger than ."
His father, Silas, an old gangster, one of the true OGs of the underworld, didn't smile. Not even a bit. He clutched his walking stick tightly and stared straight into his son's eyes.
"Be respectful." He said slowly.
Aubrey scoffed in disbelief.
His father, who didn't rule just a city but an entire region, was saying nonsense about a boy.
"Respectful? He burned the drugs 40% of which were ours. We already paid for that shipnt!" Aubrey clenched his fist. "I'm going to—"
"You're doing nothing." His father grabbed his left hand firmly.
"What?"
"Augustus Lucian was a madman, soone even I respected and feared because of his unpredictable moves. He stabbed everyone in the back, worked alone, and built an empire..." Silas grip tightened, making Aubrey flinch. "And that 'boy' was the only one who could not just speak to Lucian but order him...to make him kneel before him."
"That's just gossip, father. That fucker's just a wannabe—"
"Don't let blind anger cloud your judgnt." Silas let go of his hand. "Even just looking at him, I can tell he's soone who wants to be confronted. He's soone I spent a lifeti trying to beco..." He opened the door and stepped out.
Aubrey slamd his fist against the seat in frustration, but before he could step out, his door swung open. One of the family's right-hand n stood there, looking straight into his eyes.
"There are three rules you need to follow." The man said, stopping Aubrey to step out. "First, never look into his eyes. Second, only speak when he tells you to. Third, that guy behind him? He's ready to kill you the second you say sothing disrespectful."
Then, the man stepped aside, giving him space to exit.
Aubrey clenched his jaw but stepped out of the car, his fingers still twitching with frustration. He wasn't used to being told what to do, especially not by pawns.
As he adjusted his suit, he caught sight of the funeral crowd up ahead.
The air was thick with tension, the kind that made even seasoned criminals like him uneasy.
The funeral wasn't just a farewell to Augustus Lucian it was a battlefield.
His father walked ahead, his presence alone parting the crowd like a king among lesser n. Aubrey followed, his eyes scanning the attendees. It didn't take long to spot him.
Jas Bellini stood near the casket, dressed in an all-black suit that seed to absorb the light around him.
He looked calm, too calm for soone whose re presence had the country biggest players holding their breath. Beside him stood Hector, the man Aubrey had been warned about.
Even from a distance, the bodyguard's sharp gaze flicked over every movent in the crowd, as if he were already deciding who would die first if sothing went wrong.
This is ridiculous. He's just a kid playing at being a king.
But as he took another step forward, Jas's gaze finally landed on him.
Cold. Unreadable. Absolute.
It wasn't the look of a man sizing up an opponent, it was the look of soone who had already decided the outco. A predator who didn't need to chase because he knew the prey would co to him eventually.
Aubrey felt sothing tighten in his chest. It was unfamiliar. Unnatural.
What the hell is this feeling?
It wasn't fear, not the kind he knew. He had faced death before, had stared down gun barrels and walked through battlefields of the underworld. He had fought, killed, survived.
But this?
This was different.
Jas Bellini didn't just look at him he pressed down on him. Like an invisible weight settling on his shoulders, suffocating, inescapable.
Aubrey had always thought of himself as soone at the top, soone who stood among giants. But in that mont, under that cold, steady stare, he realized sothing terrifying.
He wasn't looking at a man.
He was looking at sothing else.
Sothing that didn't belong in this world. Sothing that shouldn't exist.
A king? No.
A monster wearing a king's crown.
Why the fuck is he staring at ? Jas thought as Aburay was looking at him.
Is he into n or sothing? Nah, don't think about that this is a funeral and we in the presence of god...or maybe Satan.
He sighed and looked down at Charlotte. She wasn't paying attention to anyone else, her gaze fixed on the casket, expression unreadable beneath the tinted sunglasses.
And finally, the bell rang.
The priest began his speech, but it was as hollow as the ceremony itself. There was no ntion of Augustus Lucian, not even a vague reference. Just an empty prayer over an empty casket and a aningless tombstone.
Jas didn't need to hear the words to know what this was. A performance. A forced ritual to mark the end of a man who had no place in the afterlife, no peace in death, only erasure.
And yet, even with his na buried in silence, the weight of his presence still hung over them all.
But for sobody it was the last farewell.
Charlotte's little sniffles pulled Jas from his thoughts.
She was gripping his hand more firmly now, her small fingers trembling slightly.
Even though she had always said she hated Lucian, her reaction told a different story as they lowered the casket into the ground.
Maybe she was crying out of relief, relief that her life had finally changed, that she was no longer in danger.
Or maybe she cried because, despite all her hatred, he had still been her last living relative.
Or maybe, just maybe, she wasn't crying for her father at all.
She was crying because she could feel the suffocating presence surrounding her.
The silent, watching eyes.
Eyes that demanded an answer.
Eyes that wanted what Lucian had left behind.
As the priest ended his hollow prayer and the casket was finally lowered, it was ti for the final farewell the mont to throw in the red roses, the ones Jas had chosen.
He stepped forward with Charlotte by his side. With a calm, unreadable expression, he let the rose slip from his fingers, watching as it landed on the casket below.
"Farewell, Lucian." He said simply.
Charlotte hesitated, gripping the stem of her rose tightly. For a mont, she didn't move. Then, with a deep breath, she let go, the flower falling softly onto the wood.
"Farewell, Dad," she whispered.
They stepped back, watching as others tossed their roses into the grav, so as a gesture of respect, others simply relieved that the man was finally gone.
"I want to go..." Charlotte whispered, gripping Jas hand tightly. Her voice was small, laced with a sadness that she herself might not have fully understood.
Jas glanced down at her, then at the grave, where more roses rained upon the polished casket. "You don't want to wait until they bury it?" He asked, crouching to her level.
Charlotte didn't answer. Her tiny fingers trembled against his, and then, without a sound, the tears ca. She didn't sob, didn't wail, just quiet, stifled cries, barely audible, yet enough for Jas to know.
It was ti to leave.
Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms. She clung to him as he turned, walking away from the gravesite, away from the waiting earth that would soon swallow Lucian's na forever.
As they left the and headed toward the cars, the atmosphere remained heavy with unspoken words and lingering stares.
Then, suddenly.
A nearby car door swung open with force, slamming against its fra. Four n stepped out they positioned themselves in a line, blocking Jas path.
"Jas Bellini." One of the n said, stepping closer, his hand almost touching Charlotte's face.
Jas swiftly shoved the man's hand away, his expression darkening. "Who the fuck are you?" He asked, his voice turning cold.
The man chuckled, unfazed. "We're just so very angry n here to collect fifty thousand crisp dollars." He said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Because so idiot decided to burn sothing we had money in."
His gaze shifted back to Charlotte, eyes narrowing with cruel amusent.
"So, darling, where's daddy's money? Better tell before I put a bullet in that cute little face of yours."
Charlotte started crying, clinging to Jas even tighter than before.
Hector and Bella were already reaching for their guns, ready to shoot the man on the spot, but they froze when Jas suddenly laughed.
"Don't worry, darling." Jas gently put Charlotte down, his voice calm but firm. "Go with Joseph, okay?" He nodded toward one of the bodyguards.
Charlotte, however, didn't move.
She had stopped crying, but her small hands still clung to Jas sleeve. Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto his face, but it wasn't for comfort.
It was fear.
Because the eyes staring back at her weren't the ones that held her hand, that reassured her, that told her everything would be okay.
It was the eyes that were darker than Lucian's.
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