She just kissed him accidentally! Her eyes refused to blink as they went wide, widening with each passing second.

Rage pushed her to the other side brutally, and she hurt her head as it met the concrete with a loud thud. Rage dusted his slacks as if it meant nothing, then resumed his walk out of the torture room area.

Speaky and Silt rushed to Angelina's side to quickly help her up. “Are you okay, Konstantin?” Speaky asked, worry shining all over his face.

“I am fine,” Angelina replied, a hiccup escaping her mouth.

*

Inside Ava’s suite, she closed her eyes as she stood in the middle of lined-up burning candles. Her room smelled of lavender and fire, with heat oozing out from the flickering flames.

Just as Rage loves the cold, she loves lighting her candles; she loves heat. She closed her eyes, and memories of her childhood began flooding in. How six-year-old Rage was locked up in the abandoned basement and how she was locked up in her room at ten.

A tear dropped from her left eye and fell on one of the burning candles with a soft sizzle. She drifted her mind off the thought and picked up her small carved sword. She cut herself, and her blood erupted.

Just then, the Clan's cook, Lady Giulia, entered with a food tray in hand and gasped at the sight of Ava’s bleeding arm.

“My lady!”

“Isn't my blood so pretty?” Ava said, walking slowly towards Lady Giulia.

“Yes, it is,” Lady Giulia murmured, bowed her head, and rushed outside, letting out a sharp gasp as the door clicked shut. She stood in the hallway, her chest tight.

“My heart almost burst.”

Rage appeared at the doorstep immediately after Lady Giulia left. He didn't bother knocking; he just pushed the door open and entered.

“Bastard, you couldn't knock? What if I were naked?”

“I’d be needing this,” Rage said, plucking a very small knife from her knife and sword collection before turning to walk out.

“You should buy one if you need it, bastard,” she yelled after him, but he just walked out completely, not giving an answer to her ranting.

“Asshole,” she mumbled, going to her tall window for some sightseeing. She decided to look over Mabel's suite today.

Just like a normal girl, Mabel's suite was decorated neutrally, except for the private swimming pool built at the back. She was presently underwater in her orange bikini, using her fingers to create floating water bubbles. She swam to her satisfaction and came out, dripping wet.

Hellstar walked in at that exact moment in his usual, almost-naked style.

“Hellstar, or whatever, I have told you countless times to always put something on before coming to my suite,” Mabel yelled upon seeing him, crossing her wet arms over her chest.

“As I have told you countless times, I prefer being called Hell,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“You are impossible,” Mabel muttered, her fingers automatically reaching up to rub the locket on her neck like a lifeline. Hellstar stared at her, his expression entirely inscrutable.

*

“Did you receive the mail from Riot?” Silt asked Speaky, leaving Angelina to wonder what he was talking about. They were back in their room now.

“Arrgh! We're going to take some goods from Crimson Cave tonight—the ones where their leader carries poisons around? Oh, we are fucked!” Silt said, his eyes darting across his phone screen as he scrolled through the email.

“Konstantin, you should've received an email too,” Speaky said, turning to face Angelina.

“What mail? Am I going with you guys?”

“No, you can't go on a mission yet. The mail will just let you know who will train you and who you’d be working for,” Silt explained, and just then, Angelina received a notification. She was to be under Rage since he was the one who took her in.

“Oh, wait! Master Rage? That annoying man? The one who tortured a lady mercilessly? He even gave me a cut on my cheek on my first day here!” Angelina ranted nonstop upon reading her notification.

“And to worsen it all, I kissed him accidentally,” she mumbled under her breath, keeping her voice too low for the guys not to hear.

“And training starts tomorrow, too, by seven in the morning. I won't even get to have my precious sleep.”

“Be careful what you say outside this room, Kons. Master Rage is mad,” Silt warned, his tone dropping seriously.

“And he hates lateness, too.”

At nighttime, four supercars zoomed out of the Clan's garage. The first car carried only Rage, with Silt in the driver's seat. The second car was led by Emma, packed with several mobsters. The third was led by Speaky, while the fourth was led by Ella. Immediately after they left, an unknown figure vanished into the dark shadows.

The drive took only twelve minutes for them to arrive at the dark dock. The goods had already been shipped to the particular dock with the Camorra Clan listed as the receiver, but the Crimson Cave leader had been adamant that the cargo belonged to them.

“Her greediness will surely land her in an early grave today,” Rage thought, a dark smirk touching his lips as he alighted from the car.

The dock was silent at first, all of them walking with absolute caution. Just as predicted, a bullet came flying through the air and almost hit Speaky, but he ducked instantly, and it hit a truck, tearing a hole through the tarpaulin covering the goods. Hot combat started immediately, the quiet area instantly turning into a brutal battlefield of arms against arms, with arrows and bullets flying through the dark.

Crimson Cave’s casualties quickly amounted to eight, but they still refused to back off.

An opponent mobster nearly blindsided Emma while she was engaged with another, but Speaky spotted him in time and ended him with a clean shot.

The fight between Rage and the Crimson Cave leader was the most vicious. Rage went into a frenzy because a woman had dared to cross him. He could have ordered his underlings to rely entirely on their guns, but he wanted close combat tonight; he wanted to feel the fight.

When the skirmish peaked, he deliberately feigned a lapse in focus. His opponent seized the opportunity instantly, dipping her hand into her thigh strap to pull out a poisoned blade. Before she could execute her move, Rage drove a small knife straight into her left eye.

The Crimson Cave leader shrieked in excruciating agony, thick blood gushing from her ruined socket. Right at that second, Rage's ear twitched. He ripped the knife free, spun around, and hurled it into the shadows. It caught a figure straight in the throat, and the man collapsed instantly.

He had known it was a snitch before they even left the clan. The man's hands had been nervously crossed behind his back during the briefing—a dead giveaway. Kaden should plan much better next time.

Kaden wanted him bedridden; he didn't have the guts to send a direct assassin, so he had leaked their coordinates through a compromised doctor.

Rage glanced back toward the Crimson Cave leader and saw her desperately trying to crawl away, her mobsters all lying motionless around her. He fired two quick shots into her legs, crippling her completely. He walked over, crouching down until his height towered over her trembling form.

“I admire your bravery. A lady like you... coming against me?” He laughed hysterically into the cold night air.

“Greet Rolo Esposito in hell.”

Without another word, he fired rounds into her right eye, her chest, and her throat, leaving her flat and lifeless on the concrete, then stood up.

“Ensure the safe delivery of the goods to the clan, Ella,” Rage commanded coldly, turning back toward his car.

“I have to take care of a dog,” he muttered to himself as he slammed the door and sped off into the night.

“Kaden…”