Chapter Fifteen :A Daughter of War

The clock read 3:07 a.m.

Serena Vale stood alone in front of the mirror, lacing her boots with trembling hands. Dressed in matte black from throat to heel, she looked nothing like the pampered bride the council once underestimated. She was lean. Silent. Sharp. And for the first time, completely untethered.

The message had said come alone.

And she would.

Because if the photo was real—if her mother was still alive—then no trap, no ambush, no army would stop her from getting her back.

Matteo was still asleep.

She left no note.

Only a single dagger on his bedside table.

It had been her father’s.

If she didn’t return, he’d know what it meant.

---

She took the Ducati.

Fast. Silent. Deadly.

The coordinates led her to the outskirts of Taranto, near the crumbling ruins of an old watchtower once used by the Black Dagger syndicate,a place Matteo had told her to never go near.

A place that now glowed in the dark with low lights and the pulse of movement.

Serena ditched the bike two kilometers out.

Moved in on foot.

The perimeter was guarded—six men, heavily armed.

But not careful.

She took the first two out with poisoned darts Matteo had taught her to use. The third dropped when she garroted him with wire.

She moved like shadow.

No mercy. No hesitation.

Only purpose.

---

Inside, the ruins had been turned into a crude base.

Concrete floors. Steel walls. Surveillance cameras.

And down below were prison cells.

She followed the sound of weeping.

Then she found her.

Isadora Vale.

Chained. Bloodied. But alive.

Her mother’s face lit up in shock.

“Serena?”

Serena rushed forward, but a voice stopped her cold.

Clapping.

From behind the shadows.

“Well done, girl. You’re just like your father.”

Serena froze.

And then he stepped into the light.

Not Arturo.

Not a rival Don.

But Victor Romano.

Head of the Romano bloodline—thought dead since the Valentino-Bianchi war.

And worse…

Her mother’s former fiancé.

---

“Victor?” Isadora whispered, horror on her face. “You’re dead.”

Victor smiled, calm and cruel. “Dead? Hardly. I’ve just been patient.”

Serena aimed her gun at him.

“Why her? Why now?”

He ignored the weapon.

“You think this was about revenge? No, no, ragazza. This was always about you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He stepped closer.

“Your father stole something from me. Not just your mother. Not just the alliance. He stole the future. Valentino wasn’t just blood. He was legacy. And you—”

He smiled wider.

“You’re not just his daughter.”

Serena’s blood chilled.

“You’re mine, Serena.”

---

“No,” she whispered. “That’s not true.”

Isadora sobbed. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying.”

But Victor held up a file. Threw it at her feet.

Inside—DNA results.

“After he died,” Victor said, “I had your blood tested. Twice. You’re half-Valentino. Half-Romano. A living hybrid of the two purest mafia bloodlines. That’s why the council fears you. That’s why Lucien tried to kill you.”

Serena’s fingers trembled on the trigger.

Victor stepped forward again.

“You’re not a pawn, ragazza. You’re the throne itself. I raised an army in secret. Trained in exile. Waiting for the day you’d come of age.”

Serena stared at him.

“You tortured my mother.”

“She betrayed me. She ran. Married Valentino. Hid you.”

“You bombed us in Geneva.”

“I tried to accelerate your awakening.”

“You sent men to kill Matteo.”

Victor’s eyes glittered. “He is unworthy.”

Serena’s jaw clenched.

“You’re insane.”

“No,” he said. “I’m a father taking back what’s mine.”

---

She fired.

Once.

Twice.

Victor dodged the first. The second clipped his arm.

“Kill her!” he roared to the guards.

Gunfire erupted.

Serena ducked behind the wall, bullets tearing through ancient stone. Her heart pounded as she returned fire, dropping two men instantly.

She grabbed a keyring from the wall and sprinted to her mother’s cell.

“Come on!” she shouted, unlocking the chains.

Isadora could barely stand.

“I’ve got you,” Serena said. “We’re getting out.”

More footsteps echoed.

More men coming.

But then—

A deafening boom.

The entire south wall exploded.

And through the smoke came Matteo.

Drenched in blood. Eyes burning.

Flanked by Mara and six of his most loyal men.

“You thought I wouldn’t follow you?” he growled.

Serena stared in shock.

“You—how—?”

He shot a guard without looking.

“You left me a dagger. Did you really think I’d let that be the last word between us?”

Victor shouted, “Kill them both!”

More guards swarmed.

Matteo threw Serena a second pistol.

And they moved.

Together.

---

It was a massacre.

Mara cleared the upper hallway with grenades.

Matteo gunned down Victor’s men with unrelenting precision.

Serena covered her mother, took out the sniper nest, and shot a fleeing traitor in the knee.

The air was thick with blood and smoke.

Until only Victor was left—limping toward the rear exit.

Serena cornered him in the stone corridor.

He raised his hands.

“I gave you life,” he said.

She aimed at his heart.

“No,” she said. “You gave me scars.”

And she pulled the trigger.

---

Outside, dawn had broken.

The ruins smoldered behind them.

Matteo stood with his arm around Serena, watching as Isadora was loaded gently into a secure vehicle.

She was alive.

But broken.

Still, she smiled when she looked at Matteo.

“You came for her.”

“I always will,” he replied.

---

Later, alone in the villa, Serena stood by the fireplace, staring into the flames.

Matteo approached from behind.

“You should sleep.”

“I can’t.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You saved her.”

“I almost lost everything.”

He turned her gently.

“You’re not alone in this, Serena. Not anymore.”

Her voice cracked.

“I’m not who I thought I was.”

He touched her cheek.

“No. You’re more.”

She leaned into him.

And for the first time, didn’t feel like she was falling.

She felt like she’d risen.