I didn’t realize I was still shaking until the gun slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.Victor Romano was dead.The monster that haunted my nights. The shadow behind my father’s death. The architect of my family’s ruin.Gone.But it didn’t feel like triumph. It felt… still. Like the final breath before the world decides whether to spin again or just stop entirely.Dante stepped forward, eyes flickering from Victor’s body to me. “Elena—”“I’m fine,” I said automatically. It was a lie. Nothing about this moment was fine. But I wasn’t broken either. Not anymore.Blood stained my blouse, my hands, even the corner of my cheek. Not my blood. His. And it didn’t disgust me.It felt like closure.“We need to clear the rest of the estate,” Dante said, already switching into cleanup mode. “There might be others left from his side. Hidden staff, data backups, contingency files.”I nodded. “Burn it all.”“Elena—”“No remnants. No memory. Nothing that bears his name survives this place.
The gunshot still echoed in Elena’s ears long after the room had gone silent.Victor Morelli slumped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, the sneer on his face frozen mid-sentence. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, soaking into the pristine carpet of his self-made kingdom.Elena didn’t move.Her arm, extended and steady just moments ago, now trembled slightly as the weight of what she’d done began to settle into her bones. Her breathing was shallow, too fast, her vision swaying slightly. But she kept her eyes locked on Victor’s lifeless body, waiting for some sign that this wasn’t real. That somehow, like all the other times, he would rise again with that twisted grin and another cruel word on his tongue.But he didn’t.This time, he stayed down.Behind her, Dante was still. Reid lowered his weapon slowly, eyes scanning the room like he didn’t believe it either.“It’s done,” she said at last, her voice quiet, too calm for what had just occurred. “He’s dead.”
The narrow concrete corridor led them into the belly of the compound, its fluorescent lights flickering as if the place itself was holding its breath. Elena’s boots echoed against the floor as she moved with purpose, the scent of metal and old blood clinging to the air like a warning.Behind her, Dante and Reid flanked the team, weapons drawn, their eyes scanning every corner. The woman who had guided them in—pale, gaunt, and trembling—lagged behind, her every step betraying nerves and exhaustion.“Is this where he is?” Elena asked, voice low but sharp.The woman nodded quickly. “He’s waiting in the vault chamber. Said you’d come.”Of course he did. Victor always planned five steps ahead. But this time, so had she.“Reid,” Elena said, “block off our exit once we’re in. I want no surprises behind us.”He gave a curt nod and veered off into the side hallway, leaving Elena, Dante, and three other operatives to push forward. They moved through a final steel door, one that slid open with a
The morning after the explosion came with a stillness that felt surreal. The world hadn’t stopped for them — the sun still rose, the city still moved, unaware that a war had just reached its boiling point.Elena stood beside Killian’s bed, watching the slow, steady rhythm of his chest. Machines hummed around them, monitors blinking soft signals of life. He was still unconscious, recovering from the surgery. But alive.And that was all she needed to keep going.“You always wanted control,” she whispered, brushing her fingers across his knuckles. “But you never realized how much of it you gave me the moment you let yourself fall in love.”He didn’t answer — couldn’t — but there was a softness to his expression in sleep, as though his body, despite the trauma, recognized her voice. Trusted her presence.Behind her, the door creaked open.Dante stepped in quietly, a man carved from war and guilt. His eyes landed on Killian, then Elena, and for once, he didn’t have anything cynical to say.
The silence that followed the aftermath of the explosion was unnatural.Elena’s ears rang with the sharp hum of shock. Dust clung to her skin, her lungs burning with the acrid sting of smoke. She blinked, slowly at first, until the flickering lights above gave her the clarity she needed—Killian’s body, half-shielded over hers, and Reid crouched beside them, bleeding from a deep cut above his brow."He's breathing," Reid muttered, voice hoarse.Elena's heart lurched as she shifted beneath Killian. Her hands fumbled against his chest, searching for the wound. Blood was everywhere, but he groaned lowly, which was more hope than she'd dared to wish for."Killian," she breathed, her voice raw. "Come back to me. Stay with me."His eyes fluttered open—barely, but enough."I'm not... leaving you," he rasped, pain etched into every syllable.A beam above them creaked ominously, threatening to collapse at any moment.Reid stood and grabbed Elena’s arm. “We have to move. Now.”Elena helped him l
The light from the overhead bulb flickered as Elena turned another page of the ledger. She sat at the long mahogany table in Killian’s private library—one of the only places in his estate no one entered without permission. Thick bookshelves lined the walls, every inch steeped in a kind of quiet power, like the air was holding its breath for what would come next.She didn’t notice any of that now.Her focus was narrowed, laser-sharp, and almost terrifyingly calm.Each name on the page was a knife. A buried truth. A match waiting to be struck.“Governor Kline accepted three payments under shell accounts,” she muttered. “Each disguised through offshore trusts. And here—here’s the transfer linked to the chemical plant fire. He signed the permit two days before the explosion. Twenty-six people died.”She looked up. Killian stood across the table, hands braced against the surface. His jaw was tight. Eyes stormy. Every inch of him screamed fury barely leashed.“That’s enough to take him down