Chapter 38: CHAPTER 38 — POV MATTEO

The night tasted like gunpowder and betrayal.

I felt it in the air the same way predators sense a shift in the wind before the kill — that subtle, electric warning humming beneath the skin. The meeting room was thick with smoke, tension, and the metallic scent of too many weapons hidden under too many jackets.

Costello men formed a wall at my back.

Genovese men flanked Lilianna like she was a queen they’d sworn fealty to.

And in the center of the room — the map spread across the table, marked with red pins like open wounds — sat the truth we could no longer outrun.

Petrov had made his move.

He wasn’t waiting.

He wasn’t hiding.

He was coming.

I leaned forward, planting both palms on the table. The stitches in my side tugged, a reminder of how close I’d come to dying. A reminder that if Petrov had his way, I’d be in the ground already.

Lilianna stood beside me, posture straight, hair pulled back, every inch the nightmare they once whispered the Genovese princess would grow into. Her eyes flicked across the map, sharp and unflinching.

“We end this,” she said. Calm. Deadly. “Tonight.”

Gasps broke around the room. Men exchanged glances. Some looked impressed. Others terrified.

All of them looked at me — waiting for the verdict.

I studied her. Really looked at her.

The woman who once ran from this world now stood ready to burn it down.

And God help me… I’d follow her into the flames.

“We hit the docks first,” I said. “Cut off his supply line. That’s where Petrov is weakest.”

A Genovese soldier — Marco — shifted his weight. “Reports say he moved armed trucks through Queens this morning. He’s spreading out. Trying to draw us thin.”

“He wants us distracted,” Lilianna said. “He knows we’ll try to protect every territory.”

I nodded. “We won’t.”

The room stilled.

Louis cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“We protect the house,” I said. “Callum comes first. Everything else is collateral.”

At the mention of our son’s name, something flickered across Lilianna’s face — fear, resolve, love, all tangled together. She stepped closer to me, our arms brushing. A silent pact.

Then Marco — overeager idiot that he was — opened his mouth.

“With respect, maybe you should send the boy somewhere else. Hide him far from this.”

Lilianna’s head snapped toward him.

I swear the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

“Callum,” she said slowly, “stays with us. Under our protection. Under Matteo’s protection. There is nowhere safer.”

Marco swallowed hard and lowered his gaze.

Good. He was smart enough not to push.

But then Rocco — older, bold enough to be stupid — spoke.

“Your father would’ve moved the heir off the board. That’s what the Genovese line always did with its blood.”

A ripple of tension moved through the room.

I opened my mouth to shut him down. But Lilianna beat me to it.

“No,” she said, voice low and lethal. “That was what my father did. And he died alone because of the choices he made.”

She stepped closer to the table, hands braced against the wood.

“We’re not repeating history,” she said. “We rewrite it.”

Silence. Heavy, shifting.

She was claiming her crown — not the bloody throne her father once held, but something sharper. Stronger. Hers.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

“Matteo.” Her voice softened only for me. “Walk me through your plan.”

I inhaled deeply and pointed to the map.

“Petrov split his men for a reason. It’s his weakness and our opportunity. We hit his largest group first — the ones holding the docks. That’s where he stores weapons. That’s where he’ll run if he needs to regroup.”

“And the Queens convoy?” Louis asked.

“We let them come,” I said. “Pull them straight into the trap I’ve been setting for weeks.”

Lilianna’s brow arched. “The explosives you wouldn’t tell me about.”

I gave her a slow, unapologetic smile. “Surprises keep relationships exciting.”

One corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re lucky you’re still healing. Otherwise, I’d smack you.”

“Noted.”

Amused murmurs spread through the room — tension breaking just enough to breathe.

Then her expression hardened again.

“And Ivan Petrov?”

My jaw clenched. “Mine.”

“No,” she said instantly. “Ours.”

There was no room for negotiation.

I nodded once. A vow.

Louis rolled out a stack of weapon crates. Men started selecting gear. The room buzzed with rising energy.

But Lilianna didn’t move.

She watched me. Studied me.

And when the others weren’t looking, she stepped close — closer than she had all day — and pressed her forehead to mine.

“You almost died,” she whispered. “I need you to promise you won’t do anything reckless tonight.”

“I can’t promise that.”

Her breath hitched. “Matteo—”

“I can promise this instead.” I cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “I won’t leave you. Not now. Not ever.”

Her eyes burned.

“Good,” she breathed. “Because if you die, I’ll kill you.”

I laughed softly. “Deal.”

Her lips trembled like she wanted to say something more — something big, something world-tilting — but footsteps interrupted.

Marco jogged over. “We found something. You need to see this.”

Lilianna and I exchanged a look and followed him.

He led us into the back office, where a laptop displayed a paused surveillance feed.

“Hit play,” I ordered.

Marco did.

The video sprang to life — grainy, taken from a street camera somewhere in Queens. A line of Petrov’s men escorted a black SUV into an underground garage.

That wasn’t unusual.

The man stepping out of the SUV was.

Tall. Broad. Dark coat.

But it was the unmistakable tattoo peeking out from his collar that made my stomach turn.

The Phoenix mark.

Lilianna gasped. “That’s impossible.”

No. It wasn’t impossible.

It was betrayal.

“It means,” I said slowly, “someone in the Phoenix Syndicate is feeding Petrov our movements.”

The room spun. Not physically — but in the way reality shifts when a truth detonates inside you.

Lilianna staggered back a step. “But why? They’re neutral. They don’t interfere. They—”

“They interfered,” I cut in. “And I know exactly who it is.”

Two hours later — on the way to the docks

The convoy moved like a shadow army, engines humming low under the cover of darkness. Rain had eased, but the clouds hung heavy — the storm waiting, watching.

I sat in the lead SUV with Louis driving and Lilianna beside me, both of us dressed for war. The bulletproof vest under her jacket stole years off my life, but she refused to sit this out.

She was a Genovese. She wasn’t hiding.

I reached over and took her hand. She squeezed once, hard.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke.

“Who do you think it is? In the Syndicate.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Arman.”

Her breath caught. “You’re sure?”

“He’s the only one with access to both sides. The only one who knew where our safehouses were. The only one who could’ve tipped Petrov off.”

“And why would he betray us now?”

“Because Arman doesn’t believe in alliances,” I said. “He believes in outcomes.”

Lilianna stared out the window, jaw tense. “Then we deal with him after Petrov.”

“After,” I agreed. “Petrov dies first.”

The radio crackled.

“Approaching target,” a voice said.

Louis slowed as the massive dockyard came into view — stretching black and silent along the water. Cargo containers formed steel canyons. Shadows danced between them.

Too quiet.

Louis muttered, “I have a bad feeling—”

Gunfire exploded from the left.

The SUV jolted as bullets shredded the side panels. Glass shattered. Lilianna ducked. I grabbed her, shielded her with my body, ignoring the pull of pain in my side.

“Ambush!” someone shouted over the comms.

No shit.

Louis swerved sharply, ramming into a stack of crates. I shoved the door open and yanked Lilianna out with me.

Men screamed. Engines roared. Gunshots lit the night like lightning.

“Move!” I barked, dragging her behind a container.

“What happened to your trap?” she shouted over the chaos.

“This isn’t the convoy,” I growled. “This is a goddamn welcoming party.”

Petrov had known we were coming.

Someone had warned him.

And as I pulled my gun free, fury turned my vision razor-sharp.

“Stay behind me,” I told her.

She lifted her chin. “Not a chance.”

“Lilianna—”

“Matteo, I’m not your weakness.”

No — she wasn’t.

She was my weapon.

And tonight, we would burn the docks to the ground.

I checked the magazine, chambered a round, and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead — hard, fierce, a promise and a battle cry.

“Then fight with me,” I said.

Her smile was bloodthirsty. “Always.”

And together, we stepped out of cover and unleashed hell.