chapter 13: First strike

MARA’S POV

The name on the screen refused to leave my mind.

Vivienne Blackwood.

Dante sat upright in his hospital bed, his injured side heavily bandaged, his expression colder than the winter rain beating against the windows.

The security chief stood beside him, holding the tablet that had just exposed another piece of the betrayal inside our family.

“Tell me exactly where you found this message,” Dante ordered.

“On a recovered phone belonging to one of the men at the harbour, sir. The message was sent shortly before the kidnapping.”

“And you waited until now to show me?”

“The device was damaged. My team only recovered the deleted messages an hour ago.”

Dante extended his hand.

“Give it to me.”

The security chief passed him the tablet.

Dante read the message again, his jaw tightening with every word.

The General is becoming a problem. If she survives the next attack, eliminate her before Dante discovers who really ordered the kidnapping.

He stared at Vivienne’s name.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he threw the tablet against the wall.

It shattered.

“Find my sister.”

“Alive, sir?”

Dante’s eyes lifted.

“Do you want to keep your job?”

The security chief immediately bowed his head and left.

I watched Dante carefully. Beneath his anger was something more dangerous.

Hurt.

Vivienne was his sister. Whatever kind of woman she had become, some part of him had probably believed she would never cross a line that threatened his children.

He looked at me.

“You should leave.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“This hospital. This room. This entire war.” His voice was rough. “Rafael wants you dead, and Vivienne is helping him. I can arrange security, money, a new identity—”

I laughed once, without humour.

“You were shot, your daughters were kidnapped, your territory was threatened, and now you're trying to dismiss your wife like an employee?”

“Mara.”

“No.” I stepped closer to his bed. “You don't get to decide that I'm too fragile to stand beside you simply because the enemy has finally learned my name.”

“I am trying to keep you alive!”

“And I'm trying to keep your family alive.”

His expression changed.

I softened slightly, placing my hand over his uninjured one.

“Dante, look at me.”

He did.

“I didn't marry you because I wanted your money. I didn't stay in this house because I wanted your name. I stayed because two little girls needed someone to stand between them and the monsters in their own home.”

His fingers closed around mine.

“And now?” he asked quietly.

I swallowed.

“Now, I suppose their father needs someone too.”

For the first time since the harbour, the hardness in his face cracked.

He drew me gently toward him, careful of his injuries, and pressed his forehead against mine.

“I have spent my entire life making enemies,” he whispered. “I know how to survive bullets, betrayal, and war. But when I saw you lying on that warehouse floor, bleeding because of me…”

His voice broke off.

I had seen men cry on battlefields. I had watched soldiers die with their hands wrapped around photographs of people they loved.

But seeing Dante struggle to finish that sentence affected me in a way I couldn't explain.

“Don't do that,” I whispered.

“Do what?”

“Make me regret falling in love with a man who thinks he has to carry the entire world alone.”

He went completely still.

I hadn't planned to say it.

The words had simply escaped.

His eyes searched mine.

“Say that again.”

“Don't push your luck, Blackwood.”

A faint, almost disbelieving smile touched his mouth.

Then he lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“I love you, Mara.”

My heart stumbled.

“I know this marriage began as a debt,” he continued. “I know I wasn't there when you stood at that altar. I wasn't there when you needed a husband, and I wasn't there when my daughters needed a father.”

“Dante—”

“But if you'll allow me,” he said, his voice growing firmer, “I want to spend the rest of my life earning the right to stand beside you.”

I leaned down and kissed him.

It was gentle at first, almost cautious. Then his hand touched my cheek, and I felt the months of anger, fear, and loneliness between us begin to loosen.

When I pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine again.

“Does this mean you'll stay?” he murmured.

I smiled faintly.

“Unfortunately for you, husband, I'm not finished causing trouble.”

His quiet laughter was interrupted by a knock.

The security chief entered, his expression grim.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Dante's entire demeanour changed.

“What now?”

“Rafael Voss has made a move against the eastern port.”

I straightened.

“How many men?”

“Approximately thirty confirmed. Possibly more. They've taken control of two access roads and disabled the cameras along the waterfront.”

Dante swung his legs over the side of the bed.

I pushed him back immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Mara—”

“You can barely stand.”

“I can still shoot.”

“And I can still knock you unconscious. Would you like to test which of us is faster?”

The security chief suddenly became very interested in the floor.

Dante glared at me.

I glared back.

Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“Bring me the port maps.”

I turned toward the security chief.

“And get my equipment from the car.”

Dante looked at me. “What are you planning?”

I picked up the shattered tablet's surviving case from the floor and tossed it onto the bedside table.

“Rafael thinks we're wounded, divided, and too busy fighting each other to defend your empire.”

I checked the pistol tucked beneath my jacket.

“Let's disappoint him.”

DANTE’S POV

I had built my empire through blood, patience, and fear.

Rafael had survived every attempt I made to destroy him because he understood one thing about war: a wounded enemy was most dangerous when everyone assumed he was finished.

But he had made a mistake.

He had underestimated my wife.

Within forty minutes, Mara had transformed the hospital's private conference room into a command centre. Maps covered the table. Security feeds glowed across three monitors. My men stood around her, listening as she assigned positions with the confidence of a general who had never needed to raise her voice to be obeyed.

“Block the northern road,” she instructed. “Keep civilians away from the waterfront. I want two teams watching the warehouses and another team protecting the estate.”

One of my captains frowned.

“With respect, Mrs. Blackwood, those are our men. We don't take orders from outsiders.”

The room went silent.

Mara slowly turned toward him.

“Your name?”

“Victor.”

“Victor, how long have you served my husband?”

“Eleven years.”

“Then you should know how much he values men who can think under pressure.” She leaned forward, pointing to the map. “Rafael has placed armed men at the northern road because he wants us to attack there. If you follow his plan, you'll walk straight into an ambush.”

Victor looked at the map.

His expression changed.

Mara tapped another location.

“We enter through the service road, cut their communications, and isolate the warehouse. No unnecessary shooting. Anyone who surrenders stays alive.”

“And if Rafael is there?” Victor asked.

Her eyes hardened.

“Then I will personally make sure he regrets coming.”

Victor straightened.

“Yes, ma'am.”

I watched my men leave the room, following her orders without another argument.

Then Mara turned to me.

“What?”

I shook my head.

“Nothing.”

“You've been staring at me.”

“I'm beginning to understand why my men are more frightened of you than they are of me.”

“Good. It means they're paying attention.”

I caught her wrist gently before she could walk away.

“Come here.”

She glanced toward the door.

“We have a port under attack.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Twenty.”

I pulled her closer and kissed her.

She made a small sound of surprise before her arms circled my neck.

For those few seconds, there was no war, no blood, no traitorous sister, and no enemy waiting to destroy everything I loved.

There was only Mara.

When she finally stepped back, she touched my cheek.

“Come back alive,” she whispered.

“I intend to.”

“That's not a promise.”

I covered her hand with mine.

“Then here's one. I will fight to return to you.”

Her eyes softened.

“Better.”

She turned toward the door, but I called her name.

“Mara.”

She looked back.

“Whatever happens tonight, you are not facing it alone.”

She gave me a small smile.

“Neither are you.”

Then she was gone.

I watched the door close behind her.

And for the first time in eighteen months, I wanted something more than victory.

I wanted a future.

A home where my daughters could laugh without fear. A woman who would challenge me when I was wrong. A life that did not end with blood on the floor.

But first, I had to survive the night.

Because Rafael Voss had made his first strike—and my wife was walking straight into the war.