GLACIER TRUCE

HADES FRUIT CLAN* PADRINO SUITE~

Padrino sat deep in his favorite armchair, the shadows of his private study wrapping around him like a cloak. A thick cigar rested between his fingers, glowing faintly at the tip, its smoke twisting upward in slow, crooked spirals. Behind him stood six men in black suits, pistols drawn, faces carved from stone.

The door creaked open. A man stepped inside and bowed.

"Don, they're back."

"Falli entrare." (Let them in.) Padrino's voice was low, measured. He took one last drag on the cigar before crushing it into the silver ashtray.

Moments later, Renzo walked in, Ace right behind, and Glacier last. Renzo and Ace each carried a heavy briefcase.

"Father" Renzo said, placing his on the desk. He snapped it open-rows of gold bars gleamed under the dim light.

Padrino chuckled, then broke into a deep, booming laugh.

Ace knelt, setting down his case and opening it. Inside were neat stacks of crisp euro notes.

"Questo è quello che intendo!" (This is what I'm talking about!)Padrino barked, grabbing a gold bar and weighing it in his palm.

"Sangue del mio sangue!" (Blood of my blood!) His laughter filled the room.

Renzo grinned. Ace smiled too. Glacier didn't-he never did.

"Tomorrow, after school" Padrino said, his tone shifting to ice, "head straight to Apocalisse. I'll be there with the others. We've got someone to put back in his place."

"Got it," Renzo replied.

The Padrino slid six gold bars across the desk-two for Ace, two for Renzo. He was reaching for the last pair when Glacier spoke.

"Non mi servono."(I don't need them.) His eyes rolled slightly, his voice flat with disinterest.

"You want to end up tied to the tree again, whipped until you can't stand?" Ace muttered, but Glacier didn't flinch.

"Usateli bene." (Use them well.) Padrino gave a final nod.

"Thank you, Father," Renzo and Ace said in unison.

The three bowed, turned, and left, their footsteps fading into the heavy silence.~

THE NEXT DAY* ACME UNIVERSITY~

ACME University - the most expensive, most ruthless, most prestigious school in all of Italy.

The name ACME flashes across the massive digital billboard just before the school gates, the glowing letters almost daring anyone unworthy to step closer.

Students call it the "Gates of Olympus," because stepping through them is like entering a world where wealth, beauty, and power rule and money is the minimum entry ticket.

The buildings themselves are works of art, towering glass-and-steel structures with sharp, modern edges that scream architectural perfection.

The lecture halls are fitted with the kind of technology that could rival NASA's control center-massive holographic displays, automated lecture-recording drones. Even the air feels richer here.

The sports facilities? Out of this world. Olympic-size swimming pools glistening under retractable glass roofs, football pitches so perfectly green, basketball courts and baseball fields manicured to perfection.

And then there's the parking lot....if you can even call it that. It looks more like an exotic car showroom.

Rows upon rows of gleaming Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and Bugattis. Most students own more than one car. For some, four or five aren't unusual. It's not about necessity; it's about status. And in ACME, status is everything-especially if your family runs a chunk of the Italian underworld.

The still morning hum is broken when two Bugattis roll into the lot. The deep purr of the engines turns heads instantly. Conversations pause. Then the murmurs start, like ripples spreading across water.

Renzo and Ace have arrived.

Before they even step out, students are already fumbling with their iPhones, snapping pictures from a safe distance.

No one dares get too close. Everyone here knows the unspoken rule: approach them without permission, and you're signing your own death warrant-literally.

The two doors open in perfect sync, and the reaction is immediate. Girls squeal softly. Some just stand frozen, clutching their chests like they've been shot by Cupid himself.

Renzo steps out first-tall, broad-shouldered, with an effortlessly arrogant smirk. Ace follows, leaner but equally magnetic, his dark eyes glinting like he's in on a joke the rest of the world will never get.

They're not just the most popular guys in school-they're legends. Worshipped. Feared. Desired. In ACME, they're practically gods.

"Oh my f**k..." someone breathes behind a shaky phone camera.

Renzo slides his hands into his pockets, scanning the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. Ace barely glances around, already bored of the attention he knows he commands.

Before the buzz can settle, three Ferraris pull up in a flash of red, blue, and white.

The first door opens....Erica steps out. She's the kind of girl who could walk into a room and silence it without saying a word. A black crop top hugs her toned figure, aviators hiding her eyes, her glossy black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Her expression? Icy. Dangerous. The type that could cut glass.

Venetta emerges next, the total opposite in energy but no less lethal. A fitted blue off-shoulder mini dress clings to her curves, her confident sway daring anyone to look away.

And then Jazzlyn. She steps out casually, almost unnoticed at first, wearing a brown cropped jacket over a simple top, paired with ripped bum shorts that show off her slim legs. She's holding a tablet, absorbed in whatever's on the screen, completely unfazed by the chaos around her.

The moment they appear, camera flashes explode like paparazzi on a Hollywood red carpet.

Renzo's gaze locks instantly on Erica and he didn't stop staring at her expressionlessly.

"I'm going to pluck your eyes out," she says flatly, adjusting her sunglasses without so much as a glance at him.

Venetta chuckles under her breath.

Renzo smirks. "I'm in the mood to spill blood." His voice is low, husky, a threat wrapped in silk.

"Please don't kill me," Erica replies, pure sarcasm dripping from her tone. She runs her fingers through her hair and turns away.

Venetta flashes Ace a middle finger before walking off.

Renzo glances at his Ace with a teasing grin. "Is she into you?"

"Who wouldn't be?" Ace says, his attention already following Jazzlyn's quiet retreat. "Yo... isn't that Serena's last born?"

"You have eyes and you can see. You saw her get out of the car, didn't you?" Renzo mutters before strolling away.

Ace stays a moment longer, catching the gaze of a girl who looks like she's about to faint. He winks. She clutches her heart like it's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to her.

The crowd starts to disperse....until another engine roars into the lot.

Glacier has arrived.

His car is sleek, understated but impossibly expensive. He parks with the precision of someone who never makes mistakes. The moment he steps out, the air changes.

His hair is the first thing anyone notices-pale blonde, almost white, catching the sunlight like spun gold. His skin is flawless porcelain, glowing in a way that doesn't seem entirely.....human.

He chews his gum slowly, his jaw working with lazy confidence. His stride is unhurried, but every step is calculated elegance long legs eating up the distance with effortless grace.

His outfit looks like it belongs in a museum: a black tailcoat embroidered with silver patterns, a crisp white shirt with billowy sleeves, and perfectly tailored black trousers.

A diamond glints from the earring in his left ear, while a mysterious tattoo curls just behind it, written in a language most here wouldn't dare claim to understand.

Ever heard of the Devil?

That's him. Glacier.

He slings his bag over one shoulder, and as he walks, conversations stall. Eyes follow him without restraint.

~He's exactly my type.

~I'm so sure of it.

~He's hot.

~I'm drooling in my panties.

~Oh my heart.

~I can't believe I just squirted from looking at his face.

Glacier keeps walking, unbothered by the whispers. He slips into the lecture hall, deliberately heading to his usual spot-the very last seat. He pulls out his laptop with the quiet assurance of someone who owns any room he walks into, even if he doesn't ask for it.

His eyes drift forward, landing on Jazzlyn.

She's alone, just like always. Unlike her sisters, she's never surrounded by friends or a buzzing entourage. And there's something about her-a stillness, a shadow-that catches his attention.

Then he sees it.

Her hand, hidden beneath the desk, clutching a small penknife. Slowly, deliberately, she slices the skin of her arm. Her face doesn't flinch....not from pain, not from fear. If anything, her eyes soften, like the sting is a kind of relief.

Glacier's lips curl into a quiet chuckle. Then, without another word, he returns his gaze to his laptop, fingers moving across the keys like nothing happened.

The hum of quiet conversation filled the lecture hall. Students were still adjusting to the idea of being back....checking schedules, gossiping about who hooked up over the summer, and subtly sizing up who had upgraded their lifestyle since last semester.

Jazzlyn didn't notice Glacier watching her at first. She was too busy tracing thin red lines on her skin with the knife's blade, eyes fixed on the desk as though she were somewhere else entirely.

Glacier, however, noticed everything.

He leaned back in his seat, one hand casually resting on his laptop's trackpad while his eyes remained on her.

Most guys, if they caught a girl doing what she was doing, would either panic or look away. Glacier? He smirked.

"You're going to make a mess," he said suddenly, his voice low, just loud enough for her to hear over the quiet chatter.

Jazzlyn froze. Slowly, she tilted her head, not all the way back, just enough to catch him in her peripheral vision.

"And?" she asked, her tone flat.

Glacier's gaze flicked to her arm, then back to her face. "You've got nice skin. Shame to ruin it."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not ruining it. I'm....fixing it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

She turned back to her desk, slipping the knife into the pocket of her jacket. "What do you care? Are we even meant to be seen talking"

Glacier just clicked his tongue. "I find this interesting. You are crazy and you don't even try to hide it"

Jazzlyn didn't reply. But she didn't tell him to shut up either. He was right after all.

Glacier leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. "You know, most people who look at me freak. The smart ones... know I'm worse than trouble. Which one are you?"

She finally looked at him over her shoulder. "Neither. I'm not most people."

He grinned, slow and dangerous. "Good. Most people bore me to death."

Before she could respond, the professor walked in, and the room snapped into an obedient hush. Glacier sat back, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer.