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, doorThe 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
The night in the Mancini estate was unusually heavy, the air thick with a foreboding silence that felt almost ceremonial. Even the guards stationed at every corner seemed unusually tense, as though they knew the storm was no longer approaching—it had already arrived.Dante sat at the head of the long mahogany table in the war room. Maps of territories, sketches of ports, photographs of safehouses—all scattered before him, illuminated by the golden glow of the chandelier above. The tension in the room was palpable. Men who had sworn their lives to the Mancini name sat with their backs straight, waiting for Dante to speak.But Dante’s attention was not entirely on them. Across the room, Amara stood silently, her presence both fragile and unyielding. The mark of his punishment from the night before was still visible in the faint bruising on her wrist where he had gripped her too tightly, a reminder of the blurred line between his desire to protect and his obsession with control.He had
The silence in the penthouse was suffocating. Dante hadn’t said a word since they returned, but his grip on Amara’s wrist had been iron the whole way, a silent promise of what awaited her. Her heart thundered against her ribs, fear and defiance battling inside her as he dragged her into his private suite and slammed the door shut behind them.“Do you think I’m a fool?” His voice was low, deadly calm, the kind of tone that made her skin crawl more than if he’d been screaming.Amara swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. “It wasn’t what you think—”“Don’t.” He cut her off sharply, stepping closer until her back met the wall. His shadow loomed over her, every inch of his presence designed to remind her who held the power. “I saw it, Amara. Lorenzo’s mouth on yours. And you didn’t push him away.”Her chest tightened. Shame and frustration burned her throat. “I was shocked. I froze. You know I wouldn’t—”“Wouldn’t what? Betray me?” His lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Don’t lie t