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Are you prepared, Aurora?"

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Are you prepared, Aurora?"

I turned slowly, my eyes narrowing as they met Angel's figure leaning ominously against the darkened doorframe. He, too, was clad entirely in black, mirroring my own attire. With a silent nod, I secured the final dagger within the concealed sheaths strapped to my thighs. Adjusting my mask one last time, I took a deep breath, mustering my composure before venturing out of the room.

Following a brief exchange with Killiam, I returned to my quarters, steeling myself for the forthcoming funeral. The entirety of the underworld trembled with shock at the news of my attendance as the Queen. The event would undoubtedly draw a multitude of individuals, some with murderous intent, others simply seeking the opportunity to witness my presence. Aware of the immense risk, my mafia and I stood ready, prepared to face any threat at any moment.

Angel guided me to the waiting car outside, and we climbed in. As the vehicle set in motion, I struggled to steady my nerves. The anticipation of the impending funeral only heightened the tension coursing through my veins. I understood that upon my arrival, all eyes would fixate upon me, and I needed to be prepared for any eventuality. The closer we approached the venue, the more evident the mounting crowd became. Dressed in a variety of attire, some donning mourning black while others displayed the colors of their respective gangs and factions, they congregated around the funeral home. The atmosphere crackled with an electric intensity, pregnant with the potential for chaos.

As we stepped out of the car, a heavy silence descended, burdened by the weight of countless gazes fixed upon me. Adjusting my mask once more, I pressed forward with purpose. Angel remained at my side, and the formidable members of my mafia dispersed strategically throughout the vicinity. A collective bow ensued from those in attendance as I passed, reciprocating with a curt nod before proceeding. Murmurs and whispers erupted in my wake.

"The Queen is here."
"I thought they were lying about her arrival."
"God, she looks even more lethal in person."
"Bloodshed is inevitable today; Death herself has graced us with her presence."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she herself orchestrated this demise. We all know her unparalleled prowess in deception."

Suppressing a smirk at the last utterance, I absorbed the mix of awe, hatred, and fear directed toward me. Nevertheless, I maintained an unyielding posture, measured steps, and an expression devoid of emotion. Despite the protective encirclement of my trusted and proficient mafia members, I remained acutely aware of the treacherous terrain that lay before us. Rival gangs and enemies lurked amidst the gathering, viewing my presence at the funeral as an opportune moment to strike. I was the Queen, a paragon of power and terror within the criminal underworld. In the face of danger, I exuded unwavering strength and resilience.

At long last, we reached the entrance of the Russian's abode. The doors swung open, granting us passage into the dimly lit interior. The room overflowed with people, shrouded in the attire of mourning. A palpable tension hung heavy in the air, woven with threads of animosity and suspicion directed squarely at me. Yet, I refused to be swayed. My head held high, I strode forward with an unyielding confidence, my eyes methodically surveying the crowd for potential threats. The Russian Don sat at the forefront, flanked by his most trusted associates.

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