#❝ 𝙙 . 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣 ❞ ╱ 𝚐𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚣

[staincdvermillion]

the most vital currency within the criminal underworld had never truly been money. no, it had been information. it had been the connections one made to ensure that they acquired the right product of information. and that evening, the currency had been the singular message that had notified him that gabriel de la cruz had come to the bar to drown his sorrows. for the news had traveled through the streets, within the shadows. that despite the years that he had been groomed for the board seat, it had inevitably been passed on to the second son. the one that had been more of a frequent flyer within the bar than gabriel himself had. but dominic's thoughts had not lingered on the newest member of the board. no, he had directed them to the one that had been cast aside. as he stepped into the bar, hands tucked into the confines of his pants. at ease, as he always had been. as he made his way to the bar, as he settled into the seat not far from gabriel .

but he made no move to greet the other. no, dominic took the moment to evaluate the situation. to take stock of the man's state before he offered up any words. that is, until gabriel snapped at him. and it had been immediate, the laugh that parted him. sharp, quick; the kind of laugh that bordered on sarcastic. " so it seems. and what an image that creates . " he almost chided. before he cast his gaze to the bartender, ordering himself a drink. " were you needing another one then ? "

open starter @bloodnglorystart any bar

Gabriel sat at the corner of the dimly lit bar, his fingers wrapped tightly around a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled lazily, the ice cubes clinking softly with each subtle movement of the glass. He wasn’t really paying attention to it, though. He was lost in a swirl of thoughts, none of them particularly pleasant. The world around him blurred in a haze of distraction, the muffled chatter of the bar's patrons, the low hum of music, all distant noises—just noise.

The will. The fucking will.

His father’s final decision, written in cold, sterile ink, felt like a slap in the face. He hadn’t expected it—at least, not like this. Not Luciano. Gabriel’s younger brother. That arrogant, naive, self-important little shit who had never shown a fraction of the discipline or the dedication that Gabriel had spent his whole life developing. It was supposed to be him. Gabriel had trained for this his entire life. He had worked for it, sacrificed for it. Countless hours spent honing his craft, perfecting every detail, every move, every choice, every little thing that could have brought him closer to the seat his father had occupied.

He'd given everything to this. Everything. And now?

Now Luciano was supposed to be the one to take the reins?

The absurdity of it gnawed at him, the weight of betrayal sinking deeper with each passing second. Gabriel was disciplined. He had earned this. He wasn’t just a son. He was the heir. But in that will, his father had cast him aside like an afterthought, as if all those years of sacrifice meant nothing. It was like he hadn’t even mattered. Gabriel’s jaw tightened, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the glass harder, the sharp sting of the ice pressing against the sides of his palm. It had to be some kind of mistake, right? It had to be a joke. His father had never once given any indication that it wouldn’t be Gabriel who took over. Not once. The man had always told him, always reassured him, that he would carry the legacy forward. But now, it was all slipping through his fingers.

A laugh—an awkward, bitter sound—escaped his lips, and he couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sob. He hadn’t even noticed the person at the bar next to him until they stared at him a tad too long. Gabriel set the glass down a little too forcefully, the slight thud resonating in the silence between them. His gaze never left the stranger’s face as he finally spoke again, his voice cutting through the bar's noise like a knife.

“Get lost. I’m drinking alone tonight.”