The Ghost Returns

CHAPTER 1.

SALVATORE POV

Ten years ago, my family was slaughtered and burnt down in our own house. Tonight, I was finally returning the favor.

Rain hammered against the black windows of the SUV as the cathedral came into view through the darkness. My fingers tightened slowly around the gun resting on my lap while old memories clawed their way back into my head.

Blood on marble floors.

My mother screaming my name.

Fire swallowing the Romano estate.

And betrayal, from other Mafia families.

They thought I died that night. They buried the Romano name like it meant nothing. If not because of my uncle I will also be a dead man. It took me 10 years to take what was taken from me.

But they don't know, monsters don't die that easily.

"Boss," Charlie said from the front seat, his voice calm and steady. "Everything is ready."

I lifted my eyes toward the glowing cathedral ahead. Luxury cars lined the entrance. The entrance was fully armed with soldiers. I smiled because nothing can stop me from getting my revenge today, not even if this cathedral is fully armed.

Inside, the Moretti family and Dante Caruso were probably drinking expensive champagne while celebrating another political alliance built on blood. Cowards.

My jaw tightened.

"Snipers?" I asked quietly.

"In position."

"Exits?"

"Locked down the second we move in."

Good. Nobody leaves unless I allow it.

Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the cathedral like heaven itself was warning them. Too late.

Charlie glanced at me through the mirror carefully.

"You sure you want to do this personally?"

The question hung in the silence. Most mafia bosses would've sent soldiers. Not me. This revenge belonged to my hands. My bullets. My rage.

"I waited ten years," I said coldly. "I'm not missing the look on their faces."

Charlie nodded once. No more questions. Smart man.

I looked down at my black leather gloves stained faintly with blood from earlier business. Violence had become second nature years ago. It's necessary.

But tonight it felt different. Heavier. Because this wasn't just revenge anymore. This was resurrection. The ghost of Salvatore Romano walking back into the world his enemies stole from him.

A guard opened my door as the rain poured harder outside. Cold air hit my face instantly.

The cathedral lights glowed against the storm while music drifted faintly through the walls. Wedding music. Funny. Ten years ago, my family died screaming. Tonight, theirs would too.

Charlie stepped beside me, adjusting his gun beneath his jacket.

"Once we enter," he murmured, "there's no going back."

I stared at the cathedral doors. Then I smiled slowly. Coldly.

"There was never a way back."

The second I walked through the cathedral doors with my men behind me, every fake smile disappeared. Music stopped. Glasses shook. The people started screaming.

Good. Let them panic.

For ten years, they thought Salvatore Romano was dead. Tonight, I reminded them why monsters are hard to kill.

Smoke rolled in behind me from the burning entrance downstairs while my men locked every exit. Guns raised. Nobody moved or breathed.

Then I saw her.

Lena Moretti.

The bride.

In a white dress, dark hair falling over her shoulders and pretty enough to start wars.

And standing beside her was Dante Caruso. The man whose family destroy my family.

His hand moved toward his gun immediately.

I tilted my head slightly. "Don't."

Dante froze instantly because he recognized me. The color drained from his face slowly. Like he'd just seen death walk into the room wearing a black suit.

"Salvatore Romano," he whispered.

Chaos exploded. People started screaming. Women stumbled backward. Guards reached for weapons.

I walked forward slowly, my shoes crunching against broken glass. My eyes never left the bride. She stared at me like she couldn't decide if I was real or a ghost. Interesting.

Luca Moretti recovered first, always arrogant but stupid.

"You should've stayed dead," he snapped, reaching for his weapon.

I shot him before he finished talking. The bullet hit his throat. Blood sprayed across the white flowers behind him.

The room erupted louder. Luca dropped to his knees choking on blood before collapsing face-first onto the marble floor.

And suddenly everything inside me went quiet. Ten years of rage. Ten years of nightmares. Ten years of hearing my mother scream in my head. Quiet. But not enough. Never enough.

Killian came at me next. I put two bullets in his chest without blinking. His body flew backward into the wedding cake. White frosting mixed with blood. Perfect.

The Moretti brothers dying at their sister's wedding felt poetic in a twisted way.

Screaming filled the ballroom again. But I wasn't looking at the bodies anymore. I was looking at her. Lena.

She wasn't crying and wasn't begging. I was waiting for her to faint like other women. Instead, she pulled a teenage boy behind her protectively. Matteo. Her younger brother.

I recognized him from surveillance reports. But he wasn't what caught my attention. She was.

Because while everyone else in the room cared about saving themselves, Lena protected him first. Her hands trembled. Her breathing shook. But she still stood in front of him like she'd die before letting anyone touch him.

That surprised me. Women raised in cartel families usually learned selfishness young. But not her.

Dante finally found his voice again.

"You think this changes anything?" he spat. "You're still outnumbered."

I glanced around lazily at the guards aiming weapons at me. Then back at him.

"You're confusing breathing with power."

Before Dante could react, Charlie slammed the butt of his gun against his jaw. Marcus hit the floor hard.

More screaming. They are panicking. The priest looks as if he is about to vomit.

I ignored all of it. Because Lena was staring at me now. Really staring.

And Christ. Those eyes. Dark and furious. Beautiful enough to make destruction feel holy.

"You killed my brothers," she whispered.

No tears. Only hatred.

I walked closer until I stood directly in front of her. Close enough to smell her perfume beneath the smoke and blood. It smells like Jasmine something soft and dangerous.

"You say that," I murmured, "like they deserved mercy."

Her chin lifted instantly. Defiant. Bad idea. I liked challenge too much.

"You don't get to decide who deserves death."

The fire in her voice hit something ugly inside me. Most people feared me. Avoiding eye contact, they even try not to breathe too loudly around me. But this woman looked at me like she wanted me alive and also stab me at the same time.

My obsession started there. Not because she was beautiful, but because she fought back.

I reached toward her slowly. Matteo flinched behind her. Lena stepped in front of him immediately. Again. Protective. Interesting.

"You're afraid," I said quietly.

"I'm not afraid of you."

Lie. I could see her pulse jumping wildly in her throat. But even terrified, she refused to submit. That made her dangerous. And I had always loved dangerous things.

Charlie stepped beside me. "Boss, we need to move."

Right. And Dante. I glanced down at him bleeding on the floor. Alive. For now. Tonight wasn't about killing him. Tonight was about taking something from him.

My eyes returned to Lena. And suddenly I knew exactly what I wanted. Her.

The realization hit me instantly. Cold. Possessive. Absolute.

Dante noticed too. His expression darkened.

"No," he snapped, struggling to stand. "You don't touch her."

I smiled. Actually smiled. Because men like Dante only understood pain when something belonged to them. And the second he called her his, I wanted to take her even more.

I grabbed her wrist. She gasped and tried pulling away immediately.

"Let go of me."

Her voice shook with anger. Not weakness. Anger.

I leaned closer until my mouth was near her ear.

"You wear my enemy's name," I said softly. "That alone should scare you."

Her breath caught. For one second, something dangerous passed between us. The way her body reacted to my voice made me more obsessed. The kind that ruins lives.

Then she whispered, "Go to hell."

God. I almost dragged her against me right there. Instead, I tightened my grip slightly.

"You first."

Matteo suddenly stepped forward.

"Don't touch my sister!"

Brave kid, but also stupid. Two of my guards raised their weapons immediately.

Lena moved in front of Matteo without hesitation.

"Please," she said quickly, finally sounding scared. "He's just a child."

And there it was. Not fear for herself. Fear for him. Something twisted painfully inside my chest. Because suddenly I remember that night. The way my brothers were terrified.

I looked at Matteo carefully. Then back at her. Interesting. Very interesting.

"Take them both," I ordered calmly.

The room froze. Lena's face lost color instantly.

"No."

Charlie grabbed Matteo while I pulled Lena toward me. She fought hard immediately, nails digging into my arm and her body twisting against mine. Pure fury and I enjoyed it too much.

"Let me go!"

Her body slammed against my chest as she struggled. Her body feels so soft, warm and alive. Too alive.

I leaned down beside her ear while my men secured the exits.

"You should stop fighting," I murmured.

"Or what?"

My hand tightened around her waist.

"Or I'll start enjoying this too much."

She froze for exactly one second. Only one. But I felt it. The tension. I know she also felt it, because she stopped fighting.

The fear mixed with something dangerously close to curiosity.

And that was when I realized revenge had already become something worse. Because standing in the middle of blood, death, and screaming guests, all I could think about was how perfect my enemy felt in my hands.

Then gunshots exploded outside the ballroom.

Charlie's voice turned sharp instantly. "Boss snipers!"

Before anyone could react, Lena gasped. Warm blood splashed across her white dress.