Estefano D'Avila had always known that love would be his undoing; no, he was not familiar with such a feeling, nor had he sought it at any point in his life. Yet, from a very young age, he had heard that it was capable of destroying even the mightiest of men, so he fled, hiding from it as much as he could.

The D'Avila family's involvement in crime had begun early, serving the American mafia for decades. Brativa was deeply rooted in the family's crest and history, but much like a storm capable of sweeping away everything in its path, this changed overnight. Cycles were closing, new leaderships were rising, and when a new Don took control of the Famiglia, it was time for brothers Estefano and Matheu to forge their own paths. They were not well-regarded or respected, for even in the mafia, certain businesses were deemed intolerable. The organ trafficking caused disgust, and the reigning Don abhorred the practice. While Matheu discreetly allied himself with a supportive faction, taking on small jobs in front of the American cosa Nostra, Estefano was more ambitious and was unwilling to relinquish his business. He turned his sights toward one of the most powerful and bloodthirsty cartels in Colombia, claiming for himself a kingdom, a throne. Medellin was his, and not a single man could contest his leadership. The heart of the former regent, devoured in front of subordinates, ensured his gained obedience and respect from an army. Estefano was American, commanding a Colombian faction, and this in Spain, using guidelines designed to confuse those who rose against him. "El coiote," the outsider, the legend, a giant nearly two meters tall who did not falter even when shot in the chest.

Nearly two years had passed since Estefano took over the Medellin cartel, turning Spain, particularly Barcelona, into a hell that he ruled like a tyrant. Prostitution and human trafficking in broad daylight were common in the cities under his command. The territory that belonged to him was dubbed "Sodom and Gomorrah," where lust, wrath, and greed were embodied in the men and women who revered him as their deity. Rivers of money flowed in a short span of time, alliances were formed with powerful men whose names could barely be uttered, and Estefano traveled the world, feeding the human and organ trafficking networks, with some of his clients being multimillionaires.

Estefano had arrived in Istanbul that afternoon, seated in the office of one of Turkey's wealthiest businessmen, waiting to negotiate for the heart of an eighteen-year-old girl. Nazir Makiere suffered from a congenital illness that condemned him to a slow, silent death and was willing to pay any price for a healthy heart, with Estefano chosen as the mediator to procure the organ. Estefano glanced at his watch, impatient as he surveyed the enormous room decorated in rustic style with a neutral expression. He picked up the phone, irritated.

"Prepare the car, Guterres; we leave in ten minutes. Not even God would make me wait this long, damn that Turkish bastard; may his heart explode in his chest."

He stood up, buttoning his jacket, and was walking toward the door when it swung open. Before him stood a small girl, her curly hair let loose in a way that surprisingly complemented her delicate face, with red lips and flushed cheeks. She wore a school uniform, as if stepping out of a fetish scene, and around her neck hung a delicate gold crucifix.

"Oh, sorry."

She smiled beautifully.

"I thought my dad was here."

Estefano clenched his jaw, his hands balling into tight fists. He envisioned how a little girl like that would split in two if he had his way, opening like a ripe peach, and he had no doubt that she was still a virgin.

"Are you Nazir's daughter?"

"Yes, my name is Cintia. It's a pleasure."

She stepped closer and extended her hand. Estefano accepted the handshake, gripping firmly, his eyes scanning her body from head to toe, smiling as he realized he was aroused by just a touch.

"Miss Cindy."

An old man shouted from the door, the irritated way he looked at them caught Estefano's attention; under different circumstances, he would have torn the old man's throat out with his hands.

"It’s time to go, we’ll be late for the boarding school."

Cintia smiled.

"I’ll be right there, Madur."

She looked at Estefano.

"It was a pleasure meeting you."

She turned to leave, the short skirt left her thighs partially bare, Estefano licked his lips, burning with desire.

"Um, if it’s not too much trouble, could you tell my dad I came looking for him? I haven’t seen him in almost a month; he’s always traveling, always busy."

"Of course."

Estefano said mischievously, his large hand touched his chin, sliding down his beard as he stared at her.

"I’ll pass on your message."

Cintia smiled, ran out through the door, and Estefano sat back down, his cold and mischievous eyes filled with depravity; he had changed his mind, he wouldn’t wait on God any longer but would wait a while longer for her, he would make an exception for that nymph since she would be his, a toy he would buy for his amusement, no matter the cost.

Cintia Makiere.

Chapter 1

The suitcase was on the bed. Inside it, Cintia packed not only clothes but also the memories she had built over the last five years living in a boarding school in Switzerland.

She was happy; it had been months since she had seen her father, and to her surprise, he had asked for her to be picked up that weekend to spend some time at home. Cintia was an only child, heiress to Nazir Makiere, a Turkish multimillionaire who had made his fortune in stock market investments and partnerships with software companies.

Cintia finished packing her clothes into the suitcase. At the door, some classmates had come to say goodbye. Saore was the closest among them; they exchanged confidences and shared tastes that had made them best friends.

"I still can't believe you're leaving."

They hugged. For some reason, Cintia would not be returning next semester, and this had already been communicated by the school principal.

"Perhaps you can visit me in Istanbul."

Cintia smiled with a heavy heart; she knew it was unlikely to happen. Saore was one of the Yakuza heiresses, and even though everyone at that boarding school knew, it was a forbidden topic between them.

"I'll talk to Papa. Who knows, maybe he'll have some business around there; he could take me to see the Grand Bazaar, the Topkapı Palace."

Saore wiped her tears and handed Cintia a small box. The hand-embroidered kimono inside had been a gift from her mother before her death.

"Saore, I can't accept this."

Cintia said, her voice choked with emotion. She knew it was the most precious treasure in the world to her friend.

"I want you to have it. You know how things work in my house."

She looked around, making sure no one was listening.

"Mama gave this to me to wear at my wedding, on a happy occasion, but that's unlikely to happen, Cindy. Probably, when I return in six months, I'll have already been given in marriage to one of Papa's men. I'll be dead because I prefer death to being forced to sleep with one of them. You will marry for love; you will be happy, just like in your dreams."

Cintia cried, hugging her friend tightly. She lamented Saore's terrible fate of having to marry out of obligation and not for love, as they had often dreamed together. She reached for her neck and took off the gold crucifix she wore. Although born in Turkey, her mother was from Mexico, one of the reasons she followed Christianity.

"Here, I want you to have this."

"Cindy..."

"I know you don't believe in God. The little medal isn't a reference to Him, but so you remember me."

She fastened it around her friend's neck, finished saying her goodbyes, and walked down the boarding school ramp. Her father's butler was waiting for her, standing beside a black imported car, and smiled at her.

"Miss."

"Cindy, Madur."

She kissed the old man's cheek.

"You've always called me that."

She got into the car, waiting for him to close the door. Her honey-colored eyes stared at the boarding school with melancholy. The entire flight to Istanbul was spent sleeplessly, daydreaming about the trips she would take, the outings with her father, and how close they would be—something new, as Nazir had always been a cold man who prioritized work and forbade public displays of affection. Still, he was loved; Cintia was proud of her father and spoke of him fondly.

"We're almost there, Cindy. Get some sleep; you haven't closed your eyes the whole way."

Madur drove from the airport to the house. Cintia dozed, clutching her white fur coat. She had expensive clothes and sophisticated shoes, even though she rarely had anywhere to wear them; uniforms were what she wore almost all the time. It was cold, and already early morning when Madur parked the car.

"Wait a moment, I'll get the suitcases from the car, and we'll talk a bit. I need to speak with you, Miss."

Cintia was so anxious she didn't hear. She got out without even waiting for the butler to open the door and walked through the living room with a smile on her face.

"Papa."

She ran up the stairs, entered the room. The smile vanished when she saw the man lying on the bed, connected to various devices and machines.

"Papa."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"What happened?"

She looked at the door. Madur was there, standing, in silence.

"What happened to him?"

He put the suitcases on the floor and extended his hand to Cintia.

"Please get up."

He pointed to the bed.

"Sit down."

She obeyed, her face wet with tears, staring at Madur sadly.

"How long has he been like this?"

"About six months."

"I was here six months ago, Madur. He was fine."

The man sat beside her, sighed.

"Your father has a serious heart problem, child. It's a congenital disease he has struggled with for many years."

"How did I not know about this?"

Cintia confronted him, her heart aching in her chest. As distant as her father might have been, she should have been informed about his health condition.

"You're only sixteen, Cindy. Your father has been in an induced coma for almost six months, due to three failed transplant attempts."

"I thought that would take longer. How did he get three organs so quickly? How did they perform surgeries of this magnitude in such a short period?"

Madur remained silent.

"Please don't hide anything from me. If my father is in a coma, who called the boarding school demanding my leave?"

The man stood up, crossing his arms in front of his body as if something were stuck in his throat.

"Before the first surgery, Mr. Nazir appointed a legal representative to take care of things. This man has been managing the house, employee payments, and even medical expenses. He has permission not only to make decisions regarding the companies and bank accounts, but he also has your guardianship, Cintia."

"A guardian?"

"A scoundrel."

Madur closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure.

"He is a cruel man, with a malevolent gaze and a mocking smile on his face. I don't know what Mr. Nazir was involved in, but one thing is certain: that man is bad, very bad, child."

Cintia looked at him, frightened.

"My God, why would Papa do this? Why would he leave everything we have in the hands of a monster?"

Silence.

"Madur."

"This man is not an ordinary person, not a lawyer or one of the vultures from the business world Mr. Nazir associated with. He is an organ trafficker, Miss, a criminal involved with the mafia. Rumor has it that your father lost everything he had to this man."

"Impossible. My father has money, many assets. Even if he had committed such madness, we would have the money to pay for this man's services."

Madur put his hand in his pocket.

"That is true, but in any case, you are about to find out, child."

He handed her a card; Cintia accepted it.

"He gave orders for you to meet him at this hotel tomorrow night."

She stood up, walked over to her father, positioning herself beside his bed.

"Estefano D'Avila."

She read the name on the card, her voice trembling.

"What do I do now? Do you think I should go, Madur?"

The man ran his hands through his gray hair.

"You have no choice. His words were as follows, Miss:"Tell Nazir's daughter I'll be waiting for her. In case she refuses to show up, I want to make it clear that it's not a good idea. If I go to that mansion, I'll bring two things with me, and neither will please her.

"What was he referring to?"

"You dragged by your hair, child, and the heart your father carries in his chest."

Chapter 2

The music inside the nightclub was loud; women danced on the tables, half-naked, propositioning anyone willing to pay for them. Estefano stared at his watch, the icy expression on his face making clear his dissatisfaction with being there. He had long since given up seeking sexual relief from bodies that sold themselves; the thought of lying in a bed where other men had lain, kissing a mouth whose whereabouts he didn't even know, prevented him from finding true satisfaction during sex.

Estefano stood up. The man he was waiting for was the owner of the place, Leviathan. Like the demon from whom he had inherited the name, Leviathan was responsible for making men become heretics, spreading lust and envy—the kind of ally who was almost mystically connected to Estefano and who made a point of showing respect every time he saw him.

"Estefano."

"Leviathan."

Just words and no physical touch.

"I thought Marverik would come with you."

The man looked around coldly.

"Since when did the Constantinos become my guard dogs? I walk alone."

Estefano lit a cigarette, throwing himself carelessly onto the sofa.

"Besides, you know well he won't go anywhere without that nymphet he married. Love turned him into an idiot; I know of no more useless feeling."

Leviathan smiled, spreading a thin line of coke on the table.

"Apparently, nothing's changed. Marverik is still strangely emotional, and you're still a scoundrel."

"Is your sister still doing 'jobs'? She loved it. I've lost count of how many times she choked on my dick while repeating that it was my lack of character she liked."

Leviathan roared with laughter.

"That was a low blow, even for you, my dear."

Estefano rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you stop stalling and just say what you want? I have an engagement tonight."

A half-smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"A tasty little distraction; it's been a while since I had some fun."

Leviathan snapped his fingers, and a young woman approached.

"You're in the devil's playground; there's no more fun place."

Estefano stared at the woman; her smudged lipstick made it clear he wouldn't be her first client of the night.

"I didn't find my dick in the trash. I'm not sticking it in that shit and risking losing it. This is an open sewer, Leviathan; I'm not crazy."

Leviathan kissed the woman on the mouth, his tongue sliding perversely inside hers.

"Don't mind him, sweetie. Estefano is old-fashioned despite maintaining this badass act."

The woman smiled, swayed her hips back to the main room, and Leviathan downed a drink.

"I called you here to make an invitation."

"What invitation?"

His hoarse, heavy voice didn't hide his boredom.

"I'm getting married in three months. I want you to be the best man."

Estefano laughed.

"Who's the wretch capable of giving you a daughter?"

"Aiko Ikari."

"The head of the Yakuza?"

Estefano leaned back against the sofa, staring at him coldly.

"I knew you were an imbecile, but suicidal?"

"Don't exaggerate."

"That's a sect, not a summit. Interracial marriages don't fly there, do you understand me? They're setting you up, genius. You'd understand if you started using the head on your shoulders more instead of the one in your pants."

"Yes or no?"

Estefano stood up.

"I'll pass. Invite Marverik."

"He said the same thing as you and told me to go fuck myself."

"I always knew he was the smarter of you two. He's a weirdo nutcase, but he wouldn't fall into a trap like this so easily."

Estefano leaned over the table, used the hundred-euro bill Leviathan had rolled up to snort the cocaine.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

He rubbed his nose quickly.

"That old man is a bastard, Leviathan. He's handing his daughter over to a pimp, and it's not even for a dirty fuck, it's for a fucking wedding."

"You talk as if you were a saint. You sell organs, Estefano, you traffic women and children."

"I give those children a home, hope to the sick, and a job to the girls."

He laughed.

"Some of them I brought here to work myself. You should thank me, damn it."

He buttoned his jacket; Leviathan stood up.

"I don't know what's up with you guys. It seems like you're competing to see who can trash me more. What's wrong with me? I can be a good husband."

Estefano walked to the door.

"Yes, your fiancee would certainly agree with you if she had seen you with your tongue buried down that prostitute's throat."

"Estefano..."

He shouted, Estefano ignored him.

"I have a damn engagement. I'm going to fuck a virgin, you bastard. Don't make me waste any more time with you."

Estefano D'Avila