Chapter 1: Ashes of a Legacy

The rain came down in a steady drizzle, soaking the cracked, uneven pavement beneath Elena Russo’s boots. The once-thriving city of San Michele was now a shell of its former self—a city in ruins, overrun by corruption, gang wars, and shattered dreams. But here, in the quiet of the cemetery, Elena’s world had come to a standstill.

She stood before her father’s grave, the fresh mound of dirt still soft from his burial. Antonio Russo, the man who once ruled this city from the shadows, was now gone—killed in a vicious gang war that had torn the Russo empire apart. His death had left a void, not only in the family’s power but in Elena’s heart.

Elena’s hand instinctively went to the silver locket around her neck. Her mother’s. A reminder of a time before the bloodshed, before the betrayals. But those days were long gone. Now, there was only one thing left for her: revenge.

“Elena.” A low voice called out, breaking the silence.

She turned to see Vito Moretti, her father’s right-hand man, approaching through the rain. He looked older now, his once-dark hair streaked with gray, his face lined with years of hard decisions and impossible choices. Vito had been with her father for as long as she could remember—always watching, always calculating.

“We need to leave,” Vito said, his voice calm but urgent. “This place isn’t safe. Not anymore.”

Elena didn’t move, her gaze still fixed on the gravestone. She wasn’t ready to leave, not yet. “I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, her voice steady. “Not until I’ve paid my respects.”

Vito sighed, stepping closer. “Your father wouldn’t want you here, standing in the rain like this. He’d want you to be strong. He’d want you to protect what’s left of the family.”

Elena’s jaw tightened. “What’s left of the family?” She almost laughed, but there was no humor in it. “We’re barely holding on, Vito. Everything he built is crumbling.”

Vito’s eyes darkened. “It doesn’t have to. But you need to be smart about this. Santini—he’s making moves, taking over what was your father’s. The men are nervous. They’re looking for leadership.”

Elena finally turned to face him, her expression cold. “And they don’t think I can lead.”

Vito hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “They’re not sure. They don’t see you the way they saw Antonio.”

“They will,” she said, her voice firm. “Once I’ve taken back what’s ours.”

Vito watched her for a moment, his face unreadable. “Marco Santini is a dangerous man, Elena. He’s not like the others. You can’t go after him without a plan.”

“I’m not afraid of Santini,” she snapped, her eyes burning with anger. “He’s the one who put my father in the ground. And I’m going to make him pay for it.”

Vito’s gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained steady. “Revenge is a dangerous road. Once you start down it, there’s no turning back.”

Elena looked back at her father’s grave, her heart heavy with grief and rage. “I’m already too far down that road to stop now.”

The rain continued to fall, but it no longer mattered. Elena knew what she had to do. And nothing—not even the warnings of a trusted ally—was going to stop her.

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