Black Rose in the Abyss Chapter 1

Bianca had crawled out of the blood-soaked gutters of the Bronx with Dante Moretti.

She had been his ride-or-die, his partner in crime, and now, she shared the throne of this city of sin, wielding equal power and wealth.

In their prime, he had sworn before a priest that he would give her a clean, bright future.

Half a month ago, a proposal ceremony lit up the Manhattan skyline.

The entire New York underworld believed that this love story, which started from nothing and reached the peak, was about to have its happy ending.

Even Bianca thought so. Until Roxy called.

"Bianca! Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Bianca frowned. "I just landed at JFK. What could be wrong?"

"It wasn't you?" Her best friend, Roxy, hesitated. "Dante just smashed up a backstreet casino in Queens. Word on the street is he broke his own rules for a woman. I thought something terrible happened to you to make him go crazy like that."

Bianca’s fingertips turned cold against her phone. For a woman?

"I see," she said, her voice calm but her ending note trembling. "I’ll go check it out."

The air in the backstreet casino was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Neon tubes lay shattered on the floor, illuminating the thugs groaning in pain.

In the center of the crowd stood Dante. He was in a black custom suit, his collar turned up.

All his attention was focused on a girl in a white dress opposite him, whose neck was being strangled by a man.

Bianca stopped in her tracks. She saw the genuine concern in his eyes.

"Dante!" Rocco, the mad dog of the Irish mob, screamed, his eyes splitting with rage. "Aren't you supposed to be marrying that bitch Bianca? You smashed my place for this woman?"

"What, did you get tired of playing with Bianca's used goods..."

That sentence violated Dante's taboo.

A gunshot rang out.

Blood exploded from Rocco’s knee. He screamed and fell to his knees on the broken glass.

Bianca stood in the shadows, watching him pull the trigger.

Rocco, thoroughly provoked, pressed a hunting knife against the girl's neck, drawing beads of blood. "You want to save her? Fine. You, Dante Moretti, get on your knees!"

It was a blatant insult. The veins on Dante’s hand holding the gun bulged.

But when the girl shed a tear of fear, Bianca clearly saw his knees bend slightly—

Bianca closed her eyes.

It was like being back on the streets of the Bronx seven years ago. A rival had stomped on her, sneering at Dante: "You want your woman? Crawl through my legs!"

In that moment, she would rather have died than watch him be humiliated for her.

For over a decade, fighting side by side, he hadn’t bowed even to the Godfather. Now, he was willing to break his pride for another woman.

She finally made her move.

She flashed out from the dark, using a precise combat technique to knock Rocco aside and lightly pushed the girl toward Dante.

Dante caught her instinctively. He wanted to explain, but the girl in his arms fainted.

In the end, he only left one sentence: "Handle things here."

Bianca stood there, watching his back disappear around the corner. Then, she got in her car and followed.

The destination was an old red brick apartment building in Brooklyn.

Her heart slowly sank.

This was the place they lived in when they first started out, when they were at their poorest.

It was like a steamer in the summer, and the heating pipes were always broken in the winter. Yet, they had lived there for ten years.

When they finally made it big, the first thing Dante did was buy the building.

He said it held the traces of her love for him, and he wouldn't let anyone else touch it.

But now, he had brought another woman here.

Her phone screen lit up. A message from a subordinate, simple and direct:

【Three months ago, the Boss's car hit Miss Mia on a rainy night. Mia lost her memory. The Boss took her back to the Brooklyn apartment. He stays there at least three nights a week.】

The car still smelled of Dante’s unique cologne. It used to be her safest haven. Now, with every breath, it felt like needles in her lungs.

Recently, he claimed gang affairs were busy. He didn't even come to pick her up from the airport.

But it turned out...

She lit a cigarette. The scarlet ember flickered in the dark, just like the flickering streetlamp outside the window years ago when they curled up on a mattress, sharing a one-dollar pizza.

They were so poor back then. Poor enough that they only had each other.

She remembered one winter night most vividly. A blizzard closed the roads, and the heating broke completely. The wind sliced through the window cracks like razor blades.

They piled all their clothes on top of themselves, but their teeth still chattered.

Dante wrapped her in his arms, warming her with his body, his chin resting on the top of her head. "Bianca, just hold on a little longer. Once we take over the territory, I promise you’ll never suffer like this again."

She believed him.

So she accompanied him from the Bronx to Wall Street, watching him transform from a nameless street thug into the feared Mr. Moretti.

The scar on her back from the bullet she took for him still ached on rainy days...

The cigarette butt burned her finger, jolting her back to reality.

A wave of bitterness slowly rose in her heart.

They had walked a bloody path for fifteen years, yet they couldn't compete with a stranger's fleeting tears.

As dawn broke, the last ripple in her eyes settled into silence.

She started the car to leave.

Just then, Dante appeared at the stairwell.

"Bianca," he knocked on the tinted window. "Have you been waiting for me? It was an emergency yesterday. Mia was scared, so I had to settle her here."

"She’s an innocent girl who got dragged into this because of me. I can’t just ignore her."

The window was dark enough to hide her expression.

She slammed on the gas.

The sports car engine roared as she sped away, leaving dust in her wake.