The empire never sleeps.Even with Vincent dead, calls poured in. Men wanting orders. Deals needing signatures. Rival families sniffing at the edges of power, waiting to see if my blood on the street meant weakness.Normally, I would have answered every call. Directed every move. Reminded the city that Saint is untouchable. But today I let them wait.Today I sat in my office, staring at the skyline, whiskey untouched on the desk, my side aching under the bandage. My phone buzzed again, vibrating against the wood. I silenced it without answering.Lucio stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He had been watching me for nearly an hour, waiting. Finally, he spoke.“You’ve ignored more calls today than in the last five years combined. That is not like you.”I didn’t look at him. “Maybe that’s the point.”He pushed off the door and walked closer. “If you disappear, the city will burn. Your enemies will circle. Your allies will fracture. That is the reality of the throne
Saint slept beside me, his arm draped heavy across my waist, his breath slow and even. The world outside was waking, but in this room it felt like time had stopped.I should have felt safe. Vincent was gone. The shadow that haunted every corner of my life had finally been cut down. Yet my chest was tight, my thoughts restless, my heart refusing to settle.Because even with Vincent dead, I wasn’t free. Not really.I turned my head slightly, studying Saint in the pale morning light. His lashes dark against his skin, his jaw shadowed, his lips parted just enough to soften the sharpness of his face. He looked peaceful. Human. Almost innocent.But I had seen his hands hours ago, dripping with blood. I had stitched his wounds, watched his body tremble with the violence he carried back from the fight.He was two men, and I was caught between them.I closed my eyes and let the tears spill silently. I loved him so much it terrified me. But Vincent’s words wouldn’t leave me. Every time you wake
Victory should feel like something.The man who haunted her is gone. His body lies rotting in a hole by the river, his blood washed away, his name silenced forever. I ended him. I did what I promised.And yet, as I sit in the dark with the city spread below me, all I feel is hollow.The wound in my side throbs, stitched by her shaking hands. Every sting of the needle had cut deeper than the blade itself, because it was not pain that broke me. It was the way she looked at me. Like I was slipping through her fingers. Like she was holding on to someone already halfway gone.I should have stayed in bed beside her. Should have let her soft breaths pull me into sleep. Instead, I poured whiskey and let it burn down my throat, hoping it would cauterize the ache that victory left behind.Lucio finds me at dawn. He steps onto the balcony without a word, his sharp eyes sweeping over me, then the untouched glass in my hand. He has always known when to speak and when to stay silent. This morning,
The night stretched like a blade, thin and merciless.I sat on the couch, knees pulled to my chest, eyes fixed on the silent phone in my hand. Every second that passed without it ringing felt like another thread unraveling inside me.He had left me with a promise. When I come back, it will be over.But promises didn’t stop bullets.I tried to tell myself that Saint was untouchable, that he had walked through worse nights and always returned. But something was different now. This wasn’t business. This wasn’t about territory or power. This was personal. He was fighting with blood in his eyes, and I knew too well that men who fought like that didn’t always live to see the morning.The clock ticked. The guard shifted at the door. The city outside pulsed with its usual indifference, neon lights glowing while my world held its breath.At some point I stood and walked to the balcony, wrapping my arms tight around myself. The wind whipped strands of hair across my face. From up here the city
The smoke curled in heavy ribbons through the hall as the blast doors fell. My boots crunched over the wreckage, every step steady, every breath controlled. Behind me, my men held the line, but this was not their fight.This was mine.Vincent waited inside, exactly where I knew he would. He stood behind a long oak table littered with maps and liquor bottles, his suit crisp, his hair slicked back as if we were meeting for dinner rather than death. His smile spread the moment our eyes locked.“Finally,” he said, his voice smooth, lazy. “The saint himself. Took you long enough.”My gun was raised, my focus sharp. “You should have stayed in the shadows, Vincent.”He chuckled, tilting his head. “And let you keep pretending you’re untouchable? No. I had to peel back your mask. And what a sight it’s been.”I stepped closer, my boots echoing on the stone floor. “You made one mistake. You touched her.”His grin widened, sharp as glass. “Maya. Sweet, trembling Maya. You can wrap her in guards,
I have killed many men, but tonight will be different. Tonight there will be no business, no strategy, no message to send. Tonight I end him because I want to.Vincent crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. He put his hands inside my world, reached for Maya, and whispered poison into her ear. She may still be breathing, but in my eyes he has already killed something inside her. And for that, I will take everything from him.The warehouse hums with activity as Lucio and my men prepare. Ammunition laid out. Weapons checked. Engines running hot. It smells of oil, sweat, and war. My world.Lucio approaches, his expression grim. “Our scouts confirmed his location. He’s holed up in a De Luca compound near the river. Heavy guard, reinforced walls, but nothing we can’t break.”My mouth curves in a sharp line. “Then we break it.”Lucio studies me for a beat. “You’re not thinking like a strategist anymore. You’re thinking like a man with blood in his eyes.”“I am a man with blood in his eyes.