Onboard a speeding yacht cutting through the ocean's expanse, within the confines of an eerie, sterile chamber adorned with bloody lunar symbols and arcane markings, a stunning 40-year-old blonde woman stands. Clad in a flowing white dress, she meticulously traces the enigmatic symbols onto the walls with bold strokes of black ink.

As the door creaks open, a handsome 60-year-old man strides into the room. Clad in black slacks and a crisp linen white shirt, his head crowned with a mane of grey hair, he drags behind him a frail, elderly woman dressed in the garb of a religious nun, her hair tugged mercilessly in his grip.

"I have her here," Maxwell De Venti declares, hurling the elderly woman across the room towards the woman in white. The old lady's pained screams fill the air as she tumbles to the ground.

"No hard feelings, dear sister. It's not you, it's me really," Angelina De Venti remarks with a slight chuckle as she picks up a bowl and knife, advancing towards the trembling nun.

With a desperate scream, the nun tries to flee, only to stumble and fall back onto her knees.

Maxwell watches in a mix of awe and admiration as the love of his life, with cold precision, slits the nun's throat. Blood spurts forth, pooling in the bowl she holds, all while humming an eerie tune.

To many, the scene would be a nightmare, but to Maxwell, it's a display of the woman he loves in all her dangerous glory. "There's no woman better suited for me," he thinks, captivated by her lethal beauty.

The nun's lifeless body thuds to the ground, her eyes silently pleading with me to dispose of her remains. Whatever Angelina says, goes. With a resigned nod, I approach the body, gazing into its terror-filled, vacant eyes. Unfortunate, but necessary.

Without hesitation, I drag the body out of the room, up the stairs, and toss it over the deck. "Rest in peace, sister," I mutter, a tinge of remorse in my voice as the ocean swallows her form.

Why are we racing towards the ocean, you ask? Well, it's the day the De Ventis bid farewell to this world. A lifetime of misdeeds has finally caught up to us, I think to myself with a slight chuckle as I make my way back downstairs.

It's not as if we've done anything particularly heinous—just a bit of genocide, some arms dealing, and a dabbling in human trafficking. Nothing too terrible, honestly.

Unfortunately, after two decades of our escapades, the FBI and various world governments are quite displeased. We didn't exactly mean to unleash a virus causing such catastrophic losses...

Snatching a bottle of wine on my way downstairs, I find Angelina has completed drawing some eerie circle on the floor. "The things I do for love," I mutter to myself.

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Apparently, it's some sort of ritual to bind our souls together or something like that. Frankly, I have no idea. I'm pretty convinced we're destined for hell in all religions, but at least we're descending into the abyss together.

She's absolutely insane, and I love every bit of it.

Taking a swig from the wine, I catch Angelina's gesture and move towards her. She stands at the center of the circle, illuminated by the nun's blood. Leaning in close, I press my lips to hers, transferring the wine in a messy, intoxicating kiss.

As I pull away, I glance down at her beautiful white dress, now stained with a mix of blood and wine. She looks like she's stepped straight out of hell, and I couldn't be more captivated.

"Shhh, I need you to kneel," Angelina commands, her voice firm as she forces me down beside her. Facing a candle that I didn't notice before—when did she light that?—she begins reciting a lengthy prayer.

I'm startled as the flame suddenly turns a haunting blue. Glancing at Angelina, her eyes are shut in deep concentration. It dawns on me that her worship of this evil goddess is more than just a belief—it's real.

Closing my eyes, I choose not to provoke the deity we've summoned.

Angelina finishes her prayer, her gaze filled with overwhelming emotion that steals my breath away. As she reaches for the knife, I understand—it's time. Today marks our 20th year together, a fitting day for our souls to be bound eternally.

Taking the knife from her trembling hands, I meet her gaze, and with a solemn nod, I drive the blade deep into her stomach. The pain is excruciating, but it's nothing compared to the love and devotion we share. In a mirrored act of devotion, I then turn the blade on myself.

We collapse together, her head cradled in the crook of my arm. 

As the world begins to blur around us, Angelina places her hand on my chest, her touch comforting yet filled with resignation.

"You know, this is the part where people typically regret their actions," she scoffs softly.

I manage a weak chuckle, dragging my trembling arm through her greying hair. "I don't know where we're headed, but I just hope I'm going there with you," I whisper.

Her voice grows faint as she speaks, "Thank you for walking this path with me. I'd give anything for more time with you. I suppose settling for dragging you down with me will have to do."

I chuckle softly at her words. "If there are next lives, I'll search for you. And if I don't find you then, I'll wait for the next and the next until I do. 'Love' doesn't begin to describe what I feel for you. You're my everything," I say, kissing her forehead tenderly.

Angelina smiles weakly, her voice barely a whisper. "Gag, so cheesy," she teases, a hint of amusement in her fading smile.

"Gag, so cheesy," she says with a smile, her voice barely audible.

I can't help but chuckle softly at her remark. "You call me cheesy, yet you're the one who summoned a deity to bind us forever," I reply with a weak smile, feeling her hand fall limp on my chest.

Slowly, darkness envelops us, swallowing everything in its depths.

As the blue flame of the candle is snuffed out, the smoke curls and twists, forming two glowing orbs of light. Just as these ethereal orbs are on the brink of fading, the symbols on the walls begin to glow with an otherworldly light.

A portal materializes in the room, shimmering and pulsing with an ominous energy. Without hesitation, the souls of Maxwell and Angelina are drawn towards the portal, their forms merging into the glowing orbs before they swiftly vanish into the unknown.

An eerie silence descends upon the room, broken only by the presence of the lifeless bodies lying amidst the dimly lit chamber.

A few hours later, the yacht erupts into a fiery explosion, followed by multiple simultaneous detonations in various locations around the globe. Government secrets and the names of influential figures are exposed and spread across the internet like wildfire.

The De Ventis, in their final act of defiance, leave behind no trace of their vast fortune, choosing to leave the world in chaos as a parting gift. Riots erupt in cities across the globe, plunging the world into a state of frenzy and disorder.

As the chaos unfolds, the De Ventis are nowhere to be found, having vanished into the shadows, leaving a world reeling from their final act of retribution.