CHAPTER 16: A Reckoning in the Shadows

Marco’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The composed, enigmatic man I had seen moments ago was gone—replaced by someone colder, sharper. His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides as his gaze swept across the ballroom.

Something was wrong.

I took a hesitant step forward, but before I could call his name, he turned, barking out orders to the men stationed discreetly around the room.

“Lock down the exits. No one leaves until I say so.”

A shiver ran down my spine. The air grew heavy with tension as the guards moved swiftly, their expressions grim.

People in the ballroom were oblivious for now, laughing, drinking, swirling across the dance floor. But I could feel it—the shift in the atmosphere, the weight of something unseen pressing in.

Marco’s head snapped toward one of his men, who had just rushed up to him. They exchanged a few hushed words, and whatever he was told made his already sharp expression darken further.

I swallowed, my throat dry. This wasn’t just business. This was personal.

Then, as if sensing my stare, Marco’s eyes found mine through the crowd. And for a split second, I saw something that made my pulse race.

Fear.

Not for himself.

For me.

barely had time to process that look before Marco was moving. Fast.

One second, he was across the room, issuing orders with the cold precision of a man in control. The next, he was in front of me, his grip firm but not painful as he took my arm.

“We’re leaving.”

His voice was low, urgent, sending a shiver down my spine.

“What?” I blinked up at him, heart hammering. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he guided me through the ballroom, maneuvering us past the oblivious guests.

The sharp crack of a gunshot split the air.

For a second, everything seemed frozen. The music stopped. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. And then—

Screams.

A man collapsed near the center of the room, his body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut. Blood seeped into the pristine marble floor, spreading in a slow, horrifying pool beneath him.

Panic erupted. Guests shoved past one another, scrambling for cover, their designer heels and polished dress shoes slipping in their haste. The elegant ballroom transformed into a scene of chaos, tables overturned, glasses shattering against the ground.

My breath hitched, my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. But before I could process what was happening, Marco had already moved.

His grip on me tightened as he yanked me against his chest, shielding me.

His grip on me tightened as he yanked me against his chest, shielding me.

Another gunshot cracked through the air. Then another.

Screams turned to sheer hysteria as people dropped to the floor, covering their heads, scrambling for any form of safety. I barely had time to react before Marco was moving, dragging me with him.

“We need to go. Now.”

More shots. A piercing cry rang out as a second body hit the floor. My head snapped in that direction just in time to see—

Oh God.

The man’s cranium shattered on impact, a grotesque explosion of red mist spraying the people closest to him. Someone shrieked. Another staggered back, slipping in the growing pools of blood. The metallic scent burned my nostrils, my stomach turning violently.

Marco didn’t let me stop. His grip was ironclad as he pulled me through the chaos, weaving us through the panicked crowd. His men moved swiftly, some returning fire, others closing in to form a protective barrier.

I stumbled over my own feet, barely keeping up as he dragged me past the grand archway, down a narrow hallway, and toward a discreet exit. The heavy door swung open, revealing the dark alley behind the building.

“Get in the car,” Marco ordered, shoving me forward just as another round of shots echoed from inside.

The second I was outside, one of his men yanked open the door of a sleek black car, his face unreadable beneath the dim streetlights. Marco didn’t waste time—he practically hurled me inside before barking out, “Take her home. Now.”

“What? No—”

The door slammed shut before I could protest, sealing me inside.

The car lurched forward, tires screeching as we sped away from the carnage. Through the tinted windows, I saw Marco turn back toward the building, his body tense.

MARCO VALENTINO

I stepped back into the building, my gun already drawn, my mind a razor-sharp blade cutting through the chaos. The scent of blood thickened in the air, mingling with the expensive perfume and champagne that had once made this ballroom feel untouchable. Now, it was a war zone.

People were still screaming, scrambling for cover. Some crouched behind overturned tables, others ran toward the exits, their designer clothes streaked with blood and panic. But I wasn’t focused on them. I was looking for the bastard who thought he could send a message in my house.

I moved with purpose, my steps silent but deadly. My men had already spread out, weapons drawn, scanning the upper levels. The shots had come from above—that much I was sure of.

I stepped over the body of the second man who had dropped, his blood pooling around my Italian leather shoes. His face was unrecognizable, skull cracked open like a fucking melon. I barely spared him a glance. He wasn’t my concern. The shooter was.

A movement on the second-floor balcony caught my eye.

There.

A dark figure slipped through the shadows, quick, precise—too trained to be some low-level thug. My jaw tightened. This wasn’t just a hit. This was a message.

And I intended to send one back.

I raised my gun and fired.

The bullet missed by a fraction, hitting the metal railing with a sharp ping. The figure jerked back, then disappeared through a side door.

“Upstairs. Now,” I barked into my earpiece.

I was already moving before my men could respond, taking the stairs two at a time, my grip firm on my weapon. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was familiar, steady. I had lived in the dark long enough to know when death was calling.

And tonight?

Tonight, I was answering.

I took the stairs two at a time, my breathing steady, my gun raised. The echo of my footsteps was lost in the chaos below—shouting, crying, the distant wail of sirens cutting through the night.

Up here, it was different.

Quieter.

Too quiet.

I kept moving, my instincts razor-sharp, my finger resting lightly on the trigger. The hallway ahead was dimly lit, shadows stretching long against the walls. The door at the end swung slightly, as if someone had just rushed through.

I followed.

Stepping through the door, I entered a narrow corridor leading to a staff exit. A sudden movement had me snapping my gun up, but it was only one of my men—Luca.

“He’s fast,” Luca muttered, pressing a hand to his side where a bullet had grazed him. “Went through the back. Couldn’t get a shot.”

My jaw clenched. Whoever this bastard was, he was smart. He hadn’t stayed to finish the job. No, this had been a warning—a show of power. And that meant he wasn’t done.

“He wanted to be seen,” I said, voice cold. “Wanted us to know he could reach us.”

Luca nodded grimly. “This wasn’t random. The targets—”

“I know.”

Three dead. One of them a high-profile investor. The others, men with ties to me. Whoever planned this knew exactly where to hit.

I turned, my mind already racing ahead.

Whoever pulled the trigger wasn’t the one calling the shots. This was bigger.

And if they thought they could rattle me?

They were fucking wrong.

I turned to Luca, my expression hard as stone. “Find out who did this,” I said, my voice deadly in its calm. “I want names, affiliations—everything.”

Luca gave a sharp nod. “I’ll put our best men on it.”

“Good. And clean this up.” My gaze swept over the ballroom below—the bodies, the blood, the panic still lingering in the air. “Make sure the press only gets what we want them to.”

Luca exhaled, already pulling out his phone. “Damage control?”

My jaw tightened. “I’ll handle that.”

Tomorrow, I’d stand in front of the cameras and give them a version of the truth they could stomach. Something neat. Something that wouldn’t send the city into a frenzy.

For now, I had a mess to erase.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, already irritated, but the moment I saw the caller ID, I answered immediately.

“She’s home,” the voice on the other end reported. “Safe. No one followed.”

A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding eased from my chest. “Good.”

I ran a hand through my hair, tension still coiled tight in my muscles. Tonight had been a disaster. A message written in blood, loud and clear. But at least Mia was out of it—away from the crossfire.

For now.

“Keep eyes on her,” I ordered. “No one gets close unless I say so.”

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket. My fists clenched at my sides. Whoever pulled this stunt had made a grave mistake.

They came into my world, spilled blood in my territory.

And they involved Mia.

Now, they’d pay.

And a war to prepare for.