The night had barely begun when the first whispers reached Dante’s ears. His phone buzzed against the nightstand, an urgent vibration that shattered the rare stillness in his penthouse. The amber glow of the city filtered through the tall windows, painting the room in muted gold. Beside him, she stirred in the sheets, half-asleep, murmuring something incoherent, her body instinctively searching for his warmth.Dante picked up the phone. The voice on the other end was taut, laced with fear.“Boss… the docks are gone.”For a moment, he said nothing. The words hung in the air, heavy, impossible. His grip tightened on the phone. “What did you say?”“They hit the eastern docks. Fire, explosives—everything’s destroyed. We tried to hold them back, but—” The man’s voice cracked. “It’s gone, sir. Lorenzo’s men burned it to the ground.”A silence followed, thicker than the smoke no doubt still curling into the sky from his docks. Those docks weren
The night was heavy with silence, the kind that pressed against the skin and suffocated the lungs. Amara sat by the large window in Dante’s penthouse, staring out at the sprawling city lights of Milan, their glittering vibrancy mocking the chaos in her chest. The skyline was alive, but inside her heart, everything felt fractured.Her fingers traced the cool glass absentmindedly, her reflection faint in the pane. Dante had gone to a late-night meeting with his men, leaving her alone with thoughts she had been trying—unsuccessfully—to bury for weeks.The man she loved was at war.And war never ended without casualties.She could still hear Lorenzo’s threats echoing from the shadows of her mind, his smug words delivered the last time he had managed to corner her during Dante’s absence:"You think he can protect you forever, little dove? You’ll be the noose around his neck, and when I tighten it, both of you will hang."That promise
The night settled over Rome like a velvet shroud, the city lights shimmering against the Tiber as if the water itself carried fragments of the stars. Amara sat on the small balcony of the safehouse, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head resting on her arms. She had showered, washed the grime and blood from Lorenzo’s compound from her skin, but nothing could rinse away the memory of it. The screams, the gunfire, the heat of the explosion—everything clung to her as though stitched into her very soul.Dante had been quiet since they returned. He hadn’t spoken much during the drive back, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed ahead like the road was the only thing holding him together. Now, he stood in the shadows of the living room, watching her through the open door that led to the balcony.Amara felt his presence before she saw him. The air shifted when he walked into a space, charged, alive. She turned her head slightly,
The night was heavy with tension, the kind that presses against the lungs and makes every breath feel stolen. Amara’s entire body screamed with exhaustion as she darted through the winding concrete hallways of Lorenzo’s underground compound. Sirens blared overhead, red lights flashing against cold walls. Boots thundered behind her—Lorenzo’s men, relentless, hungry for her capture.Her lungs burned, each inhale tearing at her chest, but she couldn’t stop. The USB drive clenched tightly in her fist was more than just evidence—it was the key to dismantling Lorenzo’s empire. Without it, everything Dante had built, everything she had sacrificed, would crumble into ash.“Stop her!” a voice shouted from behind. Gunfire cracked, bullets ricocheting off pipes and walls, showering her with sparks.Amara ducked into a side passage, pressing her back to the wall, forcing herself to breathe through the panic. She glanced quickly down the hall: cameras everywhere, door
The cold night air carried with it the faint hum of the city, but Amara could hear nothing except the frantic rhythm of her own heart. Her leather boots pressed soundlessly against the wet pavement as she crouched in the shadow of a derelict warehouse on the southern edge of the docks. Ahead, a fortress disguised as rusted steel and silence loomed before her—the lion’s den. Lorenzo’s base.Every instinct screamed for her to turn back. She wasn’t trained for this. She wasn’t like Dante’s men, hardened soldiers with scars carved into their skin and steel woven into their souls. She was a woman who’d once been a pawn, a survivor who had crawled out of the ashes of Lorenzo’s cruelty and Dante’s war. And yet here she was, chosen by Dante himself, not out of force, but out of faith.“You’re the only one who can get close without raising suspicion,” Dante had told her earlier that evening in the safehouse. His eyes, dark and intense, had burned into her. “You know Lorenz
The storm had not yet passed. In fact, it was only beginning.The morning after Dante’s blood oath, the atmosphere inside the Blackthorn compound was tense, thick with anticipation and paranoia. Every soldier, every guard, every servant seemed to move with a nervous edge, as though a single spark could ignite the whole place into flames. Dante’s declaration of war against Lorenzo had put them all on high alert—both from the enemy outside, and the shadows that might already lurk within their own walls.Dante sat in the war room, a sprawling chamber filled with maps, photographs, and strings connecting faces to places—a visual web of alliances, betrayals, and rivalries. His lieutenants lined the room’s edges, their expressions somber. At the center of the long table sat Selena, her fingers unconsciously drumming the surface, her eyes sharper than usual. She had sensed it before Dante voiced the thought.“There’s a leak,” Dante said, his voice calm, measured