GLACIER TRUCE

The night stank of gasoline and gun oil.

Down by the dockyard, where the mist crawled low like smoke from the underworld, Hades Fruit moved in silence.

No chatter. No wasted motion.

Renzo's voice was the only one cutting through the calm, low and cold.

"Quick. In, out. No noise. Glacier, handle the right wing with the other mobsters. Ace, keep your eyes on the containers."

It was supposed to be simple, retrieve the shipment, erase the trail, disappear before sunrise.

But fate had other plans.

From the other end of the pier, footsteps echoed...measured, deliberate, not afraid.

Glacier's head lifted first. He saw shadows move through the fog, three silhouettes walking like they owned the night.

And just like that, calm snapped.

Renzo's jaw tightened.

"Tell me you didn't call for backup." Renzo snapped.

"I didn't," Glacier mumbled.

Ace smirked, cocking his gun. "Then we've got company."

Out of the fog, Nightshade appeared.

Erica stepped first, black coat sweeping behind her, gun low at her side, eyes like fire that had learned control.

Venetta walked a half-step behind, chewing gum with the kind of confidence that made men nervous, a grin stitched on her lips and a knife glinting in her hand.

The air shifted. Enemies, old as sin.

Erica's gaze met Renzo's, not surprise, not fear, just irritation.

"This place was supposed to be empty," she said, her tone calm, warning.

Renzo's reply was colder. "That's funny. Because it belongs to us."

Ace gave a low whistle. "Small world, huh?"

Venetta's smirk sharpened. "Then maybe you should've built higher fences."

"What are you doing here?" Renzo repeated.

Erica's tone was even, but her eyes flickered. "Following a lead. Ours."

Renzo's stare hardened. "Your lead just ran into my mission."

"Then maybe your mission is trespassing."

The air grew thin, taut with pride.

Neither side wanted this fight - but neither would walk away first.

Before Renzo could speak, Venetta moved - too fast, too reckless.

Her knife sang through the air and buried itself into a Hades mobster's neck.

The mobster fell, choking on his own blood.

It was obvious that she was high.

For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Then chaos erupted.

"Goddammit, Venetta" Erica snapped, but it was too late.

Glacier had already opened fire.

The docks exploded with gunshots, glass, and screams.

Renzo moved like shadow, ducking behind a container and firing back, each shot clean, deliberate.

Glacier handled the rest, ice-cold, empty-eyed, dropping mobsters like dominoes.

Ace? He was smiling - that sick, adrenaline-fed grin - as he charged straight for Venetta.

Venetta met him halfway.

"You're in my way, pretty boy."

"Sweetheart, you wish."

She swung first - knife flashing. Ace blocked, twisted, caught her wrist, and she kicked him square in the ribs. He stumbled, laughed, and threw a punch that barely missed her face.

She ducked, rolled, came up with her blade drawn across his cheek.

Blood welled.

His grin widened. "Now we're talking."

"Keep grinning," she hissed, "I'll cut the rest off."

Across the yard, Renzo found Erica.

The world had narrowed to just the two of them - leaders, equals, mirrors.

"You didn't plan this," Renzo said, voice low as he reloaded.

"No," she answered, ducking behind a crate. "But I'm not walking away either."

They fired almost in sync - two sharp bursts that missed by inches.

When their guns clicked empty, they closed the distance.

Renzo blocked a kick, caught her arm, twisted - she spun, slammed an elbow into his chest.

They broke apart, breathing hard, guns forgotten.

Erica snapped, firing a warning shot near his feet.

Renzo's temper cracked for the first time that night. He charged, grabbed her wrist before she could aim again, and slammed her against a container. Her gun clattered to the ground.

But before he could speak, she twisted, shoved him back, and landed a clean hit to his jaw.

He smirked through the sting.

Behind them, Glacier moved like a machine, efficient, silent, unstoppable. He had turned the fight into massacre.

He moved through the pier like winter itself - no hesitation, no mercy. His bullets dropped Nightshade mobsters one after another, until even Venetta had to pull back to cover.

Venetta rolled behind a crate, reloading her pistol with bloody hands.

Erica crouched beside her, jaw tight.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Erica muttered.

Venetta smirked, even bleeding. "You mean we weren't supposed to find them here."

"Same thing. Mother didn't say shit"

Ace lunged at Venetta again - faster, angrier this time - and they collided, knives and fists and curses.

Their blades locked.

She whispered, close enough for him to feel her breath, "Next time, I'll aim lower."

He grinned through the pain. "Next time, I'll let you."

Renzo grabbed Glacier's arm. "Pull back. We've lost too many."

Glacier's eyes flicked to the bodies - their men, Nightshade's men - sprawled across the ground.

"Not yet," he said flatly. "They came into our job."

Erica heard him. "We didn't come for your job," she shot back. "We came for the same ghost you're chasing."

"We'll finish this another night," she said quietly.

Renzo nodded once. "Count on it."

Venetta spat blood, wiping her mouth. "You better bring flowers to your own funeral."

Ace laughed, clutching his side. "Save me a seat at yours."

"Venetta, pull back." Erica snapped.

Venetta hesitated, glaring at Ace like she wasn't done yet.

"Now," Erica ordered.

Venetta spat blood, holstered her gun, and backed away. "We'll finish this another night."

Ace smirked. "I'll be waiting."

Renzo stepped out from behind cover, gun still in hand but not raised.

Erica met his gaze one last time.

No words. Just that silent promise that this wasn't over.

Then Nightshade vanished into the fog as quickly as they'd come.

The docks were left in ruin. Smoke hung heavy.

Glacier walked among the bodies, checking for survivors.

Renzo looked over the wreckage - bodies on both sides, crates destroyed, blood soaking into the wood.

He exhaled, slow.

"Tonight wasn't supposed to end like this."

NIGHTSHADE CLAN... SERENA'S DINING ROOM~

Erica and Venetta sat at the dining table, fidgeting with anticipation as they waited for their mother, Serena, to arrive. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, and the aroma of dinner wafted in the air.

Venetta's eyes darted around the room before she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small package. Erica's eyes widened as Venetta quickly unwrapped the contents and brought it to her nose.

"Venetta, what are you doing?" Erica asked, her voice low but laced with concern.

Venetta didn't respond, too caught up in her actions. She sniffed the substance, her eyes watering slightly, and slapped her head, trying to shake off the sensation.

Erica scoffed and pulled out her iPhone, snapping pictures of Venetta in quick succession. "Gotcha," she said, a smug smile spreading across her face.

Venetta's eyes snapped open, and she glared at Erica. "What are you doing? Get that camera out of my sight," she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm going to show mom," Erica said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You can't even control your urge, can you?"

Venetta rolled her eyes and quickly hid the package, just as they heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

Serena was resplendent in a designer gown, her hair styled in an elegant updo, and a diamond necklace glinting around her neck.

Venetta smoothed out her dress and attempted to compose herself, just as Serena walked into the room.

"Good evening mother" Erica and Venetta immediately stood up to bow as Serena entered with her men behind her. The men shifted back her seat for her at the table head and she sat down, her face totally blank and cold.

"You can leave" she told her men.

"Yes godmother" They bowed and walked out of the room.

"Sit down" She told the girls and sat down.

Serena's eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed at Venetta.

"I know what you were doing a few minutes ago. I can see it in your eyes"

Venetta's face went still but nonchalant.

"The fact that you couldn't even control yourself in the dining room...that's what's troubling," Serena continued, her voice firm but controlled.

The room fell silent, the only sound the soft clinking of silverware against plates. Venetta didn't respond, her eyes fixed on her food. Erica remained still.

Without another word, Serena picked up her fork and began eating, her movements precise. Venetta and Erica followed suit until when Serena suddenly dropped her cutlery.

Erica stopped eating too but who are you kidding, Venetta continued eating.

"Where's Jazzlyn?" Serena asked.

"I thought I made it clear for her to always join us during dinner. I bet she's cutting herself again" Serena added.

"I'm sure she's aware about our dinner together" Erica answered.

"That bitch is always in her room, go get her for me" Serena said getting pissed off already

Erica stood up and was about going when Serena voice stopped her.

"Get your ass down" Serena snapped and Erica sat back.

"Venetta, go and call your sister" Serena said and Venetta scoffed, rolling her eyes.

She pushed her chair backward and stood up. She then bowed and walked out of the room.

"Venetta is becoming an head ache" Serena groaned.

Erica immediately poured juice into a glass cup.

"Here mother. Have it" She dropped it in front of her.

Serena took the cup and drank up the water.

The silence after Venetta left hung thick in the air. The clock on the wall ticked, the sound loud enough to fill the space between Serena and Erica.

Erica swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her fork. "Mother..." she started, her voice cautious.

Serena didn't look up. "What."

"There's something I need to tell you," Erica said. "About last night."

That got Serena's attention. Her fork stilled midair, eyes lifting slowly to meet her daughter's. "Last night?" she repeated, her voice even but sharp.

Erica nodded once. "The mission. The one you sent us on. You didn't tell us the Hades Fruit clan would be there."

Serena leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. The movement was calm, deliberate but her silence spoke louder than any outburst could.

"You ran into them?" she finally asked, her voice low.

Erica nodded. "Yes. Renzo, Glacier, and Ace. It was chaos. We lost men, so did they. It wasn't supposed to happen, and I thought maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Serena cut in. Her tone wasn't raised, but it carried that deadly softness that always made Erica's stomach twist.

"Maybe you didn't know," Erica said quietly. "Or maybe it wasn't intentional."

Serena's lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. "Of course it was intentional."

Erica blinked. "What?"

"I knew they'd be there," Serena said simply, reaching for her glass. The faint clink of crystal against the table was the only sound as she took a slow sip, eyes never leaving Erica's face. "Padrino's been quiet for too long. I intend to stir him up."

Erica's fork dropped to her plate with a soft clatter. "You sent us into that crossfire on purpose?"

Serena tilted her head slightly. "You make it sound like I sent you to die. I didn't. You came back breathing, didn't you?"

"That's not the point," Erica said, her composure slipping. "You didn't tell us, Mother. Venetta almost got shot..."

Serena's voice sliced through hers like glass. "Are you questioning me?"

Erica froze.

Serena's eyes narrowed, cold and unreadable. "Or are you already fucking Padrino's son, and that's why you're suddenly concerned about his clan?"

The words hit like a gunshot. The room went still, heavy with a silence that made Erica's chest tighten.

"Mother..." she breathed, shaking her head quickly. "No, I-"

"Because I would hate to think," Serena continued, leaning forward, her voice calm but venomous, "that my own blood is confusing loyalty with lust."

Erica's hands trembled under the table. She couldn't look away from Serena's eyes - dark, sharp, and knowing.

"I'm not," she managed to whisper.

Serena leaned back again, her tone softening just enough to chill. "Good. Don't make me doubt my trust in you, Erica. Once I start doubting someone..." She trailed off, smiling faintly. "Well. You've seen what happens."

Erica lowered her gaze. "Yes, Mother. I understand."

Serena took another sip of her drink, satisfied. "Good. Now clean up your tone and your thoughts. You're my daughter, not a street girl"

"Yes, Mother," Erica said again, quieter this time.

Serena didn't respond, but the faintest smile ghosted across her lips-just for a second-before her expression turned blank again.

****

JAZZLYN ROOM*

Jazzlyn sat alone in her room. The darkness pressed in like a heavy blanket, swallowing every corner except for a single golden glow from the lamp on the table before her.

The lamp's light didn't feel warm, it felt sharp, like it exposed too much. Shadows clung to the walls, silent witnesses to what she was about to do.

She sat in the wooden chair, the table close enough that her knees touched its edge. In her right hand, she held a small, gleaming knife. Its blade reflected the light in thin, almost mocking flashes. Her left wrist rested on the table, pale and still, as if it already knew what was coming.

Her gaze didn't waver. She looked at her wrist as if it were both a puzzle and an answer.

The calmness in her expression contrasted so deeply with the tremor in the air around her.

She was beautiful painfully so. Every outfit looked like it had been made for her. The curve of her lips, red as ripe cherries; the way her lashes curled perfectly; the grace in her figure. But in that moment, beauty was irrelevant.

Like she had done countless times before, she raised the knife. The motion was slow, deliberate, like a ritual she knew by heart. The cold metal kissed her skin before it broke through. She didn't flinch. The cut was deep, deeper than usual and crimson began to spill quickly, a stark, living red against her pale skin.

She watched it. She always watched it. A faint smile ghosted her lips, the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her breathing slowed, and with each passing second, her vision began to blur, edges softening, light dimming. She felt her body slipping away before her mind did.

And then...darkness.

Her body crumpled to the floor, the sound of her fall swallowed by the thick quiet of the room.

Moments later, the silence broke. A knock rattled the door....quick, impatient.

"Jazzlyn?" Venetta's voice came muffled from the other side.

No answer.

Venetta knocked again, harder. Still nothing. Her brow furrowed. With a sharp movement, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open, the hinges protesting with a creak.

The smell hit her first-metallic, heavy. Then she saw Jazzlyn sprawled on the floor, her hair fanned out, the knife lying just inches from her hand, a dark pool gathering beneath her wrist.

Venetta didn't gasp. She didn't even look startled. This....this wasn't new. She'd walked into this scene more times than she could count.

She pressed two fingers lightly to Jazzlyn's neck. Pulse–still there.

She tapped her earpiece, the small device linked to the others.

"Erica, she's down again" she said, voice flat, as if she were giving a weather update.

There was a pause. "Got that" Erica said and there was a pause.

Venetta stayed where she was, watching the slow rise and fall of Jazzlyn's chest.

A crackle in the earpiece, and then Serena's voice, curt, uninterested. "Leave her."

Erica relayed it without a hint of hesitation. "You heard her. Leave her."

Venetta's eyes lingered on Jazzlyn one last time. No sigh, no shake of the head....just that same unreadable expression.

Then she stepped backward, pulling the door closed behind her until the click of the latch sealed the darkness inside once again.

And the room went still.

HADES FRUIT CLAN* PADRINO SUITE~

Padrino sat deep in his favorite armchair, the shadows of his private study wrapping around him like a cloak. A thick cigar rested between his fingers, glowing faintly at the tip, its smoke twisting upward in slow, crooked spirals. Behind him stood six men in black suits, pistols drawn, faces carved from stone.

The door creaked open. A man stepped inside and bowed.

"Don, they're back."

"Falli entrare." (Let them in.) Padrino's voice was low, measured. He took one last drag on the cigar before crushing it into the silver ashtray.

Moments later, Renzo walked in, Ace right behind, and Glacier last. Renzo and Ace each carried a heavy briefcase.

"Father" Renzo said, placing his on the desk. He snapped it open-rows of gold bars gleamed under the dim light.

Padrino chuckled, then broke into a deep, booming laugh.

Ace knelt, setting down his case and opening it. Inside were neat stacks of crisp euro notes.

"Questo è quello che intendo!" (This is what I'm talking about!)Padrino barked, grabbing a gold bar and weighing it in his palm.

"Sangue del mio sangue!" (Blood of my blood!) His laughter filled the room.

Renzo grinned. Ace smiled too. Glacier didn't-he never did.

"Tomorrow, after school" Padrino said, his tone shifting to ice, "head straight to Apocalisse. I'll be there with the others. We've got someone to put back in his place."

"Got it," Renzo replied.

The Padrino slid six gold bars across the desk-two for Ace, two for Renzo. He was reaching for the last pair when Glacier spoke.

"Non mi servono."(I don't need them.) His eyes rolled slightly, his voice flat with disinterest.

"You want to end up tied to the tree again, whipped until you can't stand?" Ace muttered, but Glacier didn't flinch.

"Usateli bene." (Use them well.) Padrino gave a final nod.

"Thank you, Father," Renzo and Ace said in unison.

The three bowed, turned, and left, their footsteps fading into the heavy silence.~

THE NEXT DAY* ACME UNIVERSITY~

ACME University - the most expensive, most ruthless, most prestigious school in all of Italy.

The name ACME flashes across the massive digital billboard just before the school gates, the glowing letters almost daring anyone unworthy to step closer.

Students call it the "Gates of Olympus," because stepping through them is like entering a world where wealth, beauty, and power rule and money is the minimum entry ticket.

The buildings themselves are works of art, towering glass-and-steel structures with sharp, modern edges that scream architectural perfection.

The lecture halls are fitted with the kind of technology that could rival NASA's control center-massive holographic displays, automated lecture-recording drones. Even the air feels richer here.

The sports facilities? Out of this world. Olympic-size swimming pools glistening under retractable glass roofs, football pitches so perfectly green, basketball courts and baseball fields manicured to perfection.

And then there's the parking lot....if you can even call it that. It looks more like an exotic car showroom.

Rows upon rows of gleaming Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and Bugattis. Most students own more than one car. For some, four or five aren't unusual. It's not about necessity; it's about status. And in ACME, status is everything-especially if your family runs a chunk of the Italian underworld.

The still morning hum is broken when two Bugattis roll into the lot. The deep purr of the engines turns heads instantly. Conversations pause. Then the murmurs start, like ripples spreading across water.

Renzo and Ace have arrived.

Before they even step out, students are already fumbling with their iPhones, snapping pictures from a safe distance.

No one dares get too close. Everyone here knows the unspoken rule: approach them without permission, and you're signing your own death warrant-literally.

The two doors open in perfect sync, and the reaction is immediate. Girls squeal softly. Some just stand frozen, clutching their chests like they've been shot by Cupid himself.

Renzo steps out first-tall, broad-shouldered, with an effortlessly arrogant smirk. Ace follows, leaner but equally magnetic, his dark eyes glinting like he's in on a joke the rest of the world will never get.

They're not just the most popular guys in school-they're legends. Worshipped. Feared. Desired. In ACME, they're practically gods.

"Oh my f**k..." someone breathes behind a shaky phone camera.

Renzo slides his hands into his pockets, scanning the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. Ace barely glances around, already bored of the attention he knows he commands.

Before the buzz can settle, three Ferraris pull up in a flash of red, blue, and white.

The first door opens....Erica steps out. She's the kind of girl who could walk into a room and silence it without saying a word. A black crop top hugs her toned figure, aviators hiding her eyes, her glossy black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Her expression? Icy. Dangerous. The type that could cut glass.

Venetta emerges next, the total opposite in energy but no less lethal. A fitted blue off-shoulder mini dress clings to her curves, her confident sway daring anyone to look away.

And then Jazzlyn. She steps out casually, almost unnoticed at first, wearing a brown cropped jacket over a simple top, paired with ripped bum shorts that show off her slim legs. She's holding a tablet, absorbed in whatever's on the screen, completely unfazed by the chaos around her.

The moment they appear, camera flashes explode like paparazzi on a Hollywood red carpet.

Renzo's gaze locks instantly on Erica and he didn't stop staring at her expressionlessly.

"I'm going to pluck your eyes out," she says flatly, adjusting her sunglasses without so much as a glance at him.

Venetta chuckles under her breath.

Renzo smirks. "I'm in the mood to spill blood." His voice is low, husky, a threat wrapped in silk.

"Please don't kill me," Erica replies, pure sarcasm dripping from her tone. She runs her fingers through her hair and turns away.

Venetta flashes Ace a middle finger before walking off.

Renzo glances at his Ace with a teasing grin. "Is she into you?"

"Who wouldn't be?" Ace says, his attention already following Jazzlyn's quiet retreat. "Yo... isn't that Serena's last born?"

"You have eyes and you can see. You saw her get out of the car, didn't you?" Renzo mutters before strolling away.

Ace stays a moment longer, catching the gaze of a girl who looks like she's about to faint. He winks. She clutches her heart like it's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to her.

The crowd starts to disperse....until another engine roars into the lot.

Glacier has arrived.

His car is sleek, understated but impossibly expensive. He parks with the precision of someone who never makes mistakes. The moment he steps out, the air changes.

His hair is the first thing anyone notices-pale blonde, almost white, catching the sunlight like spun gold. His skin is flawless porcelain, glowing in a way that doesn't seem entirely.....human.

He chews his gum slowly, his jaw working with lazy confidence. His stride is unhurried, but every step is calculated elegance long legs eating up the distance with effortless grace.

His outfit looks like it belongs in a museum: a black tailcoat embroidered with silver patterns, a crisp white shirt with billowy sleeves, and perfectly tailored black trousers.

A diamond glints from the earring in his left ear, while a mysterious tattoo curls just behind it, written in a language most here wouldn't dare claim to understand.

Ever heard of the Devil?

That's him. Glacier.

He slings his bag over one shoulder, and as he walks, conversations stall. Eyes follow him without restraint.

~He's exactly my type.

~I'm so sure of it.

~He's hot.

~I'm drooling in my panties.

~Oh my heart.

~I can't believe I just squirted from looking at his face.

Glacier keeps walking, unbothered by the whispers. He slips into the lecture hall, deliberately heading to his usual spot-the very last seat. He pulls out his laptop with the quiet assurance of someone who owns any room he walks into, even if he doesn't ask for it.

His eyes drift forward, landing on Jazzlyn.

She's alone, just like always. Unlike her sisters, she's never surrounded by friends or a buzzing entourage. And there's something about her-a stillness, a shadow-that catches his attention.

Then he sees it.

Her hand, hidden beneath the desk, clutching a small penknife. Slowly, deliberately, she slices the skin of her arm. Her face doesn't flinch....not from pain, not from fear. If anything, her eyes soften, like the sting is a kind of relief.

Glacier's lips curl into a quiet chuckle. Then, without another word, he returns his gaze to his laptop, fingers moving across the keys like nothing happened.

The hum of quiet conversation filled the lecture hall. Students were still adjusting to the idea of being back....checking schedules, gossiping about who hooked up over the summer, and subtly sizing up who had upgraded their lifestyle since last semester.

Jazzlyn didn't notice Glacier watching her at first. She was too busy tracing thin red lines on her skin with the knife's blade, eyes fixed on the desk as though she were somewhere else entirely.

Glacier, however, noticed everything.

He leaned back in his seat, one hand casually resting on his laptop's trackpad while his eyes remained on her.

Most guys, if they caught a girl doing what she was doing, would either panic or look away. Glacier? He smirked.

"You're going to make a mess," he said suddenly, his voice low, just loud enough for her to hear over the quiet chatter.

Jazzlyn froze. Slowly, she tilted her head, not all the way back, just enough to catch him in her peripheral vision.

"And?" she asked, her tone flat.

Glacier's gaze flicked to her arm, then back to her face. "You've got nice skin. Shame to ruin it."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not ruining it. I'm....fixing it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

She turned back to her desk, slipping the knife into the pocket of her jacket. "What do you care? Are we even meant to be seen talking"

Glacier just clicked his tongue. "I find this interesting. You are crazy and you don't even try to hide it"

Jazzlyn didn't reply. But she didn't tell him to shut up either. He was right after all.

Glacier leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. "You know, most people who look at me freak. The smart ones... know I'm worse than trouble. Which one are you?"

She finally looked at him over her shoulder. "Neither. I'm not most people."

He grinned, slow and dangerous. "Good. Most people bore me to death."

Before she could respond, the professor walked in, and the room snapped into an obedient hush. Glacier sat back, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer.