Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines (The Vampire Cartel #2)

54. The Fall of the Fratelli

Chapter 54

The Fall of the Fratelli

V atican - Vatican City, Rome

April 21, 2018

(Day of Death)

In the deepest recesses of the realm, a soul waited. Impatient. Distraught. Lost. Desperate for escape. It paced the long, empty stretch between oblivion and restoration, yearning for freedom. The only light, faint and distant, came from the memory of Dolly and Darlene. The ladies were his flame of hope in the dark.

Lucio paused. Time had no meaning in his prison. Purpose had slipped away. All he had left were the echoes of what he’d lost—who he once was.

When Don Vittorio raised his sons, he’d spoken of the Fratelli—the ancient Order and their blood oath to the Draca. At first, the boys found his dark tales to be confusing stories meant to frighten him and his brothers, but as they grew older, the stories filled them all with dread. The age of sacrifice loomed, and Lucio remembered that day all too well—the day when the Draca cast aside his soul and took control.

There was pleasure in the darkness, yes. But there was also an endless, gnawing loneliness. Pain that never let go. He and his brothers had tried to hold on to their bond as twins, but how could they? The bond tore them apart. It severed their unity. There was no return to the sanctity of their mother’s womb.

That was why he had warned Dolly and Darlene—begged them to fight to remain one. Because in the darkness, alone, there was no humanity.

A low growl broke the silence behind him. It pulled Lucio from his wandering. Lucio cast his gaze over his shoulder. He knew what lurked between the heavens and the bowels of hell—creatures like him, trapped in the purgatory of their immortal existence, paying a cost few understood. Lucio had lived with it for centuries.

Until Her .

LUCIO. The voice of the Draca slithered through his mind, an ancient language only understood in the prison of his thoughts. DRAQURIA COMES FOR YOU.

Lucio turned fully now. Out of the shadows, his Draca emerged. It looked sick, scorched from a battle Lucio hadn’t seen, wounded in ways he couldn’t fathom. The creature staggered forward, then collapsed before him.

He had hated this beast for decades—the source of his blood thirst, the reason he had hunted and killed Julia Brown’s descendants. But through Dolly and Darlene, he had learned to accept the curse, and with it, the Draca.

Now, the creature looked up at him with mournful eyes, filled with a sadness that pierced even Lucio’s hardened heart. What was the price for a creature’s penance if its only sin was living by its monstrous nature?

Lucio stepped forward, resting a hand on the Draca’s scorched brow. It exhaled a weak puff of dark smoke and closed its eyes in submission. They had lived, hunted, and bled together. So, what had changed?

Then he heard it.

A roar. Distant but growing closer. Menacing.

HE COMES FOR YOU. THE SUPREME.

Lucio understood. His father was dead. Dolly was lost to him. And now, the Supreme Draca, whom Phoenix had told Lucio, and his brothers was crowned in the ancient real and given the name Draquria, would claim him. The darkness was on the hunt. And there would be no escape.

Tristan could feel the pull—the threat radiated from Marcello and Sebastiano, both ready to tear into Dolly. Lucio would never forgive him if he let the brothers attack without defending her. He glanced at Charmaine. One look from her and he felt braver. The brothers were the present danger, and they both understood the risk. Together, the Fratelli were an unstoppable force, but Charmaine—the resurrected Guardian—was no ordinary opponent. Her clenched fists shimmered. Ancient power coursed through her veins. She was prepared for war.

Before anyone could make a move, a dark blast hit the ground like a bomb. It sent a shockwave through the air that divided the battlefield. Tristan barely had time to shield his face from the searing energy. The ground trembled, splitting the Vatican courtyard in two. It forced the brothers back from Dolly and her protectors.

Phoenix had arrived.

Dressed in the regal, ancient garb of the Roman Senate, he rose from the crater he’d created his presence an overwhelming wave of authority. His gaze locked first on Marcello, then slid to Sebastiano.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Marcello roared. His voice was full of fury.

Sebastiano, usually composed, faltered, confusion flashed across his face.

“Killing your father,” Tristan said, his voice hard.

Phoenix’s eyes shifted to Tristan, cool and emotionless. He had trained the vampire, and molded him for years. Tristan knew the Magistrate’s power rivaled the brothers. Even now, after his betrayal, the unyielding discipline of a priest still held Tristan back from breaking ranks completely.

Marcello’s jaw clenched. He spoke in rapid Sicilian, with eyes narrowing. “ Cosa dice? He killed our father?”

“Answer him!” Sebastiano demanded; his voice edged with panic.

Phoenix smiled coldly, turning to Tristan. “Why don’t you tell them, priest? Tell them how I betrayed them. How I’ve been playing this game long before they even knew the rules.”

Without warning, both brothers slammed into Tristan’s mind. It was like being struck by lightning—his knees buckled under the mental assault. Their combined power was ruthless, unrelenting, tearing through his thoughts, searching for the truth.

Tristan collapsed to the ground, clutching his head in agony. Charmaine rushed forward to help, but a new gust of wind ripped through the sky. Shakespeare descended, bringing with him Sonya, her face set in determination and her eyes focused. The force of their arrival broke the brothers’ concentration, easing the pressure on Tristan.

“ Fermati! It’s true!” Shakespeare shouted. “We just left Syracuse. We saw it ourselves.”

Sonya slipped from Shakespeare’s side, stepping protectively toward Dolly. The absence of Darlene weighed on her heart like a stone. As the Guardian of Pain, her first duty was to Darlene—always. But now, it seemed, Darlene was lost... or worse.

“Explain this,” Marcello snarled. He stepped toward Phoenix. His eyes narrowed as he sensed something amiss. “Are you blocking me?”

Phoenix remained still, indifferent. The smugness infuriated Marcello.

Marcello and Sebastiano shared a look of dawning horror. They both felt it now—the heavy, undeniable truth crushed down upon them.

“ Padre? ” Sebastiano whispered.

Marcello’s gaze snapped back to Phoenix, who withdrew a baton from beneath his robe. Sonya’s eyes widened at the sight of it—a weapon dark with magic. It wasn’t one of their creations, but something older, more deadly. It transformed to a sword.

“You dare wield a weapon I taught you how to make?” Marcello spat, his voice full of venom.

Phoenix let the weapon extend. Its dark, magical edges hummed with ancient power. He dragged the sword across the cobblestones, sending sparks into the air as he walked a straight line between Dolly and the Fratelli.

“You created what I allowed you to create,” Phoenix said calmly. “You served my purpose well, but now it’s too late baby vampire—the youngest of four. The Supreme Draquria has been released. Lucio belongs to him.”

“He’s not gone! Not yet, you bastard,” Dolly shouted her voice filled with raw defiance.

Phoenix turned his cold gaze on her, then swung the blade with deadly precision. Charmaine and Sonya reacted instantly; their combined powers created a shield just before the sword could slice through Dolly’s throat. The weapon sparked against the barrier, bending and cracking before reforming in Phoenix’s grip.

He raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. Dolly stepped back, power radiated from her, the brothers still unsure of their next move. Phoenix shifted his stance, his body poised like a seasoned warrior.

“Don’t make me kill you,” Phoenix warned. “The Supreme Draquria wants you. Lucio will submit soon enough, and you will be his queen. If you take one more step toward me, I’ll deliver you to him bound in chains.”

“Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain?” Tristan managed to ask, as he pushed himself up from the ground.

Phoenix smiled. “You still don’t understand, do you? I don’t serve anyone but the Supreme. I’ve already set everything in motion. Your war, your little rebellions... all part of the plan. Lucio will rule the underworld, and you—all of you—will serve him.”

Shakespeare, his usual bravado fading, muttered under his breath, “You’re nothing but a lapdog for your dragon, a glorified errand boy with no real power.”

Phoenix chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. After all, I had fun with your little pet. Raising Sophie from the dead—her soulless, broken body—was the most exquisite torture I’ve ever witnessed. She begged for mercy to the very end.”

Shakespeare’s smirk vanished, replaced by a cold fury.

But before he could respond, Phoenix unleashed a powerful blast, faster than anyone could react. Phoenix threw Tristan and Shakespeare into the air, causing them to crash to the ground. Their bodies stiffened unnaturally, eyes clouding over as they writhed in agony. Phoenix’s dark magic began to take hold, zombifying them under his control.

“You were always meant for the underworld,” Phoenix said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Both of you will serve well.”

Sonya cried out, trying to run to them, but Phoenix struck again, this time targeting her. The blow hit her hard, ancient techniques, leaving her breathless and bleeding as she collapsed onto the ground.

Tristan and Shakespeare, trapped in their frozen states, twitched violently, their eyes bright with pain. Even in their zombified state, the sight of Sonya’s injury ignited fury within them—they both loved her in their own way.

Phoenix looked down at her, his gaze indifferent. “She’ll live. I need her pain to keep you both in line.”

Sebastiano, seeing Sonya fall, roared in rage. He summoned dark tendrils of power, drawing on his Tibetan training, his form blurred as he moved to strike Phoenix. But Phoenix was faster—his ancient weapon lashed out, countered Sebastiano’s attack with brutal precision, sending him with a brutal crash to the ground.

“You think you can defeat me?” Phoenix hissed. “You’ve been children playing with toys.”

Marcello, eyes blazed with fury, leaped forward, his hands crackled with magical energy. But as he charged, Phoenix flicked his wrist, and Marcello’s body froze mid-air, suspended by an unseen force.

“The Supreme Draca has chosen Lucio,” Phoenix said. “You are all nothing more than servants now, destined to watch as he takes the throne of the underworld.”

Dolly, her own powers swirled within her, stepped forward. “You won’t take him. I’ll kill you first.”

Phoenix smiled. “You can try.”

Lucio stood frozen. His hand remained on the dying Draca’s brow. The once mighty beast had crumbled under the weight of its wounds. The roar of the victor echoed again, louder, and closer. It vibrated through the very marrow of his bones. There was no mistaking the resounding blare. The Supreme Draca was on the hunt.

The surrounding air turned cold. A black mist swirled in the distance. It coiled like a serpent in the sky. Its presence oppressive and ancient. Lucio felt the pursuit of the dark entity. A pull so powerful that even his Draca, though near death, trembled over its approach.

Lucio clenched his fists, his heart pounded in the void of his chest. The Supreme had come to claim him. To take what little remained of his soul. But even in the depths of this hell, there was a flicker of resistance within him—Dolly and Darlene, the only light left in his heart.

I won’t go without a fight. Not this time.

The mist moved over him and descended. It swallowed him whole. The shadows snaked around him like a lover’s embrace, suffocating yet seductive. And then, from the mist, Draquria emerged—a colossal figure, its body wrapped in shadow, scales gleamed with a dark, unnatural light. Its wings, vast and leathery, stretched out across the horizon, blocking out whatever dim light remained in purgatory. The Supreme’s eyes, two glowing orbs of crimson red, locked onto Lucio, as if seeing into his very soul.

The Draca at Lucio’s feet let out a final, pitiful whimper before disintegrating into ash. Draquria’s voice thundered through the void, its tone both commanding and merciless.

“Your time has come, Lucio. Vittorio’s time has passed.”

Lucio’s body shook with the weight of the Supreme’s power. He felt it creep into his mind, his very being. Draquria was not like his Draca. It was something far older, far darker, and infinitely more powerful.

“No,” Lucio whispered, though his voice wavered.

“You will rule as I once ruled through your coven. I am you. You are me. A King of the Damned. Supreme.”

The words, though terrifying, stirred something primal within Lucio—a dark hunger for power long buried beneath decades of self-loathing. It surged through his veins. It charged his senses. There was no choice here. No escape. But if he was to be taken by the Supreme Draca, he would rise with it. He would become something far greater than the creature he had intended. Dolly had showed him that there is love in darkness. There could be harmony between dark and light. He had not forgotten that lesson.

The mist swirled faster now. It wrapped itself around his limbs, binding him in place as Draquria’s massive form drew closer. Lucio struggled, but it was like fighting against a hurricane—his body was being torn apart from the inside, his mind fractured under the weight of Draquria’s will. He could feel the Supreme push into his thoughts, reshape them and him, pull him deeper into the abyss.

“Accept me.” Draquria’s voice was in his mind now, drowning out all else. “Stop the resistance! You make the vow.”

Lucio let out a roar of defiance, but the darkness swallowed it. The Supreme’s power coiled tighter around his heart, crushing whatever hope remained. The shadows seeped into his skin, into his bones. It burned him from the inside. His old Draca had been a parasite, but Draquria—Draquria was the all consuming disease.

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through Lucio’s chest as the Supreme Draca sank its claws into his soul. He could feel the remnants of his true self, cling to the edges of his consciousness, trying desperately to hold on. But Draquria was relentless. With a final, violent pull, the Supreme ripped the old soul he cherished away, tearing it apart until nothing remained but ash and bone.

Lucio fell to his knees, gasping as the last of his self was destroyed. But in that moment of agony, something else surged forward. Power. Dark, limitless power. As his body started to heal, it also began to reshape itself, despite being broken and weakened. His muscles tightened; his senses sharpened. He could feel Draquria’s blood merging with his own, transforming him, making him stronger than he had ever been.

The darkness no longer felt oppressive. It felt alive .

Lucio rose to his feet, his body radiating with an otherworldly energy. His eyes, once cold and distant, now burned with an intense crimson light, the same as Draquria’s. The monks around his comatose body underneath the sacred halls of the Vatican bowed their heads in unison. Sleek, dark, finely threaded business attire that seemed to shimmer with an inner glow, every inch etched with ancient symbols of power replaced his once-tattered clothes. His hair, dark as midnight, shimmered with vitality, and his presence—his very being—commanded the surrounding void.

He had become the Supreme.

Lucio’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. Lucio could feel the Supreme’s power course through his veins, its hunger becoming his hunger, its will becoming his own. He was no longer just Lucio. He was something far greater—King of the Underworld, ruler of the damned.

He flexed his hand, and the darkness obeyed, swirling around him like a living entity. It bent to his will now. He was no longer a prisoner of the void. He owned it.

But even in his transformation, one thought remained clear. Dolly. Darlene. They were out there, fighting for him. And now, as the Supreme Vampire, he would return to them. Lucio would bring them into his kingdom, make them his, and they would rule by his side. He took a deep inhale of their essence and sent his dark desires for the future to them both. He would not be denied.