THE MAFIA QUEEN

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Angelo leaned back into the couch, the weight of the room pressing on his shoulders. Aries stood frozen by the doorway, his eyes locked on his older brother as if he could drag the truth out without words.

Across from them, Section E filled the living room in a tense, uneven semicircle — Keifer, Yuri, Felix, Eman, Denzel, Blaster, Rory, Drew, Kit, Josh, Mayo, Edrix, Eren, Calix, Cin, and David. Their expressions ranged from confusion to unspoken dread, but all of them were waiting.

“I need answers, Angelo,” Keifer said flatly.

Yuri’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “Yes… what the hell just happened now?”

Angelo exhaled slowly, the sound almost weary. “Then I guess… it’s time to reveal everything.”

The air seemed to still. His voice dropped, taking on the deep cadence of someone telling a story not meant to be heard by outsiders.

“It all started,” he said, “when Jay Jay was seven years old…”

—

The room dissolved into the hum of his voice, each word pulling them into a darker time.

Jay Jay’s world was small back then — a cramped house, faded curtains, and silence that weighed heavier than noise. Her mother was never there. Always busy, always somewhere else, chasing affairs and distractions. Her father had left when she was still a baby, so it was just her… and her stepfather.

And him — he drank like it was breathing. Every day. Every night. Drunk rage was his language. Belts, boots, even the heated plate of an iron box — whatever he could grab, he used.

One evening, bruised and trembling, Jay Jay had enough. She ran — barefoot, choking on her sobs as she tore through narrow lanes. But the night was unkind. Shadows moved where they shouldn’t. A group of men stepped into her path, their smirks carrying intentions that made her stomach twist.

Before they could close in, a figure emerged from the darkness. A man in his forties, tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard — and a scar that started above his eyebrow and ran jaggedly to his chin.

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t warn them. In seconds, the ground was littered with bodies, the air heavy with the metallic sting of blood.

Jay Jay was frozen, her small fists clenched, eyes wide in terror.

The man’s expression softened as he looked at her. “It’s fine… come with me,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Shaking, she nodded.

As they walked, he asked her why she’d been running. She told him. Everything. The beatings. The loneliness. The feeling of being nothing.

When they reached her house, the stepfather was sprawled on the couch, drunk and snoring. The man reached into his coat, pulled out a knife, and handed it to her.

“Go,” he said. “End him.”

She stared at the blade, unsure. But the bruises burned under her skin, and the memory of every strike flooded back. Her grip tightened.

A few steps later, she was standing over him. And then — a single slash. His throat opened in a violent red line. His eyes went wide, his hands clutching desperately at the wound. She didn’t flinch.

The man watched her, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. A test — and she had passed.

From that day, the Black Serpent took her in.

—

Back in the present, Angelo’s voice trailed off.

“The Black Serpent?” Keifer repeated, eyes narrowing. He’d heard the name before — whispered in the darker corners of the city. Ruthless. Unforgiving. Untouchable.