Black Rose in the Abyss Chapter 10

When Dante woke up, it felt like every bone in his body had been taken apart and put back together.

He lay in a strange bed. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was an unfamiliar estate, not the familiar neon lights of New York.

Dante threw off the covers, his wounds aching dully.

Two guards in black suits stood outside the door. Seeing him come out, they bowed respectfully. "Young Master, you're awake."

He ignored them and walked straight out.

He had to go back to New York!

He had to see Bianca!

Dante was covered in injuries, and the guards didn't dare to forcefully stop him, so they could only follow closely behind.

Just as he was about to reach the heavy oak doors, a figure stepped out from behind a pillar.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice was luxurious, carrying a casual, lazy tone.

Dante looked up. The man was dressed in an impeccable dark grey suit, his figure tall and slender.

In his hand, he leisurely played with an antique lighter. The metal lid clicked open and shut with a strange rhythm.

He looked no more than thirty, the corners of his lips hooked in a half-smile that seemed elegant, but couldn't hide the subtle murderous intent in the corners of his eyes.

"Awake?"

"Fuck off." Dante's mind was filled with the scene of Bianca falling from the cliff. Anxious, he swung a fist at the man.

The man sighed lightly. He didn't even put down the lighter in his hand. He simply turned sideways, grabbed Dante's wrist, and executed a clean, sharp shoulder throw.

Bang—

Dante slammed heavily onto the marble floor. Blood surged in his chest, old wounds tearing open. He nearly passed out again.

The man looked down at him from above, playing with the lighter, and slowly squatted to meet Dante's painfully gasping face.

"Good strength, pity you don't know how to use it." His tone was flat, stating a fact. "I am Lorenzo Valenti. By rank, you should call me Uncle."

Dante coughed up a mouthful of bloody foam, his eyes fierce. "Who the fuck is your nephew! Let me go back to New York!"

Lorenzo didn't care. He even let out a very slight chuckle.

"Go back to New York? To find that woman named Bianca? And then what? Collect her corpse, or die with her?"

Every word stabbed viciously into Dante's heart.

"New York's 'Twin Kings'?" Lorenzo stood up slowly, using the tip of his handmade leather shoe to nudge Dante's limply hanging hand. "Just two fish flapping a bit harder in the mud puddle of the slums. Leave that puddle, and you are nothing."

Dante gritted his teeth, trying to struggle, but Lorenzo's foot was already stepping on his back. The force wasn't heavy, but it kept him pinned.

"Do you hate me?"

Lorenzo looked down at him. "Hating is right. But hate alone is useless. Right now, you can't even get close to me. What makes you think you can return to New York?"

Dante lay on the ground, breathing heavily, his fingernails digging into the cracks of the stone.

Lorenzo looked at him. In those eyes that resembled his late sister's, there was only gloom.

"The Valenti family is not a charity, and I'm not here to play happy family with you."

"You are the only blood my sister left in this world. I can't let you rot outside."

"From today on, I will teach you the rules. The process will be painful. You can choose to refuse," Lorenzo tilted his head, his lips hooking into a cold arc. "Then I'll break your legs, and you can be a cripple locked up here for the rest of your life."

After that day, no one knew what Dante went through.

They only knew that two years later, another god of death emerged from the Valenti family in Chicago. His methods were ruthless, personally trained by Lorenzo.

...

The Queens district of New York under the night sky remained noisy, but the title of "Twin Kings" had long become a legend mentioned over tea and dinner.

A luxury club named "The East" had risen here, the stronghold of the rising force, the Harmony Syndicate.

Inside the penthouse suite, Mia slowly woke up to find her hands and feet bound, thrown onto the floor.

"Awake?" President Chow kicked her calf with the toe of his shoe. "Talk. Where is Dante?"

Mia shrank back in fear, tears instantly welling up.

"I don't know..."

"For the past two years, you've been the only woman by his side. You wouldn't know?" President Chow lost his patience, leaning down to pinch her chin. "Call him. Tell him to spit out the project he snatched from me, and I'll let you go."

Chow leaned closer, his foul breath spraying on her face. "Speaking of which, does Dante have eye problems? Look at you. How could you ever compare to Bianca back then..."

Before he could finish, the main door was smashed open.

Guards were thrown in one by one. The screams from outside were clearly audible.

President Chow's face darkened. His nest was being raided, and badly. Who was this plague god?

A group of men walked in, suits sharp. Even their raid was beautiful—one shot, one kill, clean and efficient.

President Chow's face turned pale. He recognized it. This wasn't the style of a small New York gang. This was the style of the Valenti family from Chicago.

The last person to walk in was a man.

Black shirt, exquisite watch. "You can ask me to my face how my eyesight is, President Chow."