Chapter 70 Chapter 70

Chapter 70 Chapter 70
\[ SALVATORE’S POV \]

I sat behind my desk, but I wasn't really there. My mind was in that car with Iris, watching the miles grow between us. The silence in the office was loud, but Michael’s voice was louder.

"What were you thinking when you let her go?" Michael asked, leaning back in his chair. He was watching me like I was a bomb about to go off. "Look at yourself. I can feel your anger from across the room. You’re vibrating with it."

I didn't look at him. I just stared at the whiskey in my glass. Every time I thought about her crying on that bed, my chest felt like it was being crushed.

"Send some men to the Russo’s warehouse," I said. My voice was a low growl that made the glass in my hand rattle. "The one at the docks. I want it burned to the ground. Leave nothing but ash."

Michael leaned forward, a sharp grin spreading across his face. He liked the smell of smoke. "Should I lead the squad?"

I looked at him for a long moment, my gaze cold. The silence stretched between us until it felt like a physical weight. I wasn't going to give the Russos the satisfaction of seeing my best man.

"No," I finally said. "Your presence there is too much for flies like them. Sending you is like using a cannon to kill a bug. Send Mira. I want her to do the job. She’s been itching for a reason to break something since this morning."

"Very well then," Michael said. He picked up his tablet and started typing. "Mira will enjoy this. She’s still pissed about the breakfast drama."

I stood up and walked to the window. I looked out over the mountains, but all I could see was Iris’s face. I wasn't thinking about the warehouse or the money the Russos would lose. I was thinking about how to eradicate them.

I let Iris go so she could see the truth. I was letting her see that the world she missed so much was the same world that just called her a whore on national TV.

\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

\[ MIRA’S POV \]

I checked the clip on my Glock and slid it into the holster at my hip. A wicked grin spread across my face. Salvatore finally gave me something fun to do.

Burning down a Russo warehouse? That was exactly what I needed to clear my head after all the drama that has been happening around me.

"Load up," I barked at the squad of men waiting by the black SUVs. "The boss wants ash. He wants the Russos to wake up smelling like smoke and regret."

"Yes, Ma'am!" they shouted back.

We reached the docks just as the sun was starting to dip. The warehouse was huge, sitting there like a fat target with the Russo name practically painted on it. I didn't wait for a grand entrance. We moved in like shadows.

"Check the perimeter," I whispered into my comms. "If anyone is inside, kill them all. I want them alive to tell their boss who did this. But the building? The building dies tonight."

I walked up to the main office door and kicked it open. One of the Russo guards tried to reach for his piece, but I was faster. I put a bullet in his shoulder before he could even blink.

"Tell your boss Iris Moretti says hello," I hissed, leaning over him as he groaned on the floor. "Actually, tell him Mira Moretti sent her regards. Now get out before you melt."

My men moved through the aisles, splashing gasoline over crates of expensive drugs  and imported weapons. The smell was sharp and sweet. I pulled a silver lighter from my pocket, the one Salvatore gave me for my eighteenth birthday.

I flicked it. The small flame danced in the dark warehouse.

"Burn it," I said.

I tossed the lighter onto a trail of gas. Whoosh. The fire climbed the walls in seconds, turning the dark room into a bright, orange hell. I walked out slowly, the heat at my back, feeling the roar of the flames in my bones.

Outside, I pulled out my phone and started a video. I panned the camera from my face, smudged with a bit of soot but smiling—to the massive building being swallowed by fire.

"Hey, big brother," I said into the camera, the sound of sirens starting to wail in the distance. "Consider part of the Russo's  wealth officially toasted. I will surely let Iris know the fireworks were beautiful."

I hit send and hopped into the moving SUV.

\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

\[ SOFIA’S POV \]

I was sitting in the lounge, sipping wine and scrolling through the nasty comments about Iris. I felt like a queen. But then, the heavy double doors swung open.

One of our guards stumbled in. He was covered in soot, and his arm was soaked in blood. He looked like he had just crawled out of a furnace.

"Sir... the warehouse," the guard gasped, leaning against the expensive wallpaper. "It’s gone. Mira Moretti... She shot me. She told me to tell you...she’s coming for you."

Father stood up so fast his chair hit the floor. His face turned a deep, angry purple. He didn't even look at the guard’s wound. He only cared about the millions of dollars turning to ash at the docks.

"Toasted?" Father roared. his voice shook the room. "You let a girl burn my empire? You let that Moretti brat walk into my territory and light a match?"

"There were too many of them, sir! We tried to…"

"You tried?" Father reached into his waistband and pulled out his gold-plated gun.

My heart hammered in my chest with pure anger and joy, angry at Salvatore for hurting me for Iris and glad the father is going to kill this pathetic fool in front of me. I really wanted him to die by my hands, but I didn't move. I watched and let father do what he knows best.

"I don't pay for trying Marco," Father hissed. He walked over to the dining table where a plate of steak and potatoes was sitting. He picked up a piece of meat with his fingers and chewed it slowly, staring at the shaking guard. "This steak is good. It’s reliable. It does what it’s supposed to do. You? You are useless."

"Please, Mr. Russo! I have a family!" the guard begged, tears mixing with the blood on his face.

Father swallowed his food and wiped his mouth with a silk napkin. "Your family should have had a better father. One who knows how to hold a household."

BANG.

The sound was deafening in the small room. The guard dropped like a sack of flour, a red hole right in the center of his forehead. I didn't flinch. I just took another sip of my wine.

Father turned to me, his eyes cold and dead. "Sofia. Gather the elite guards. Tell them the Morettis have beaten more than they can chew. If Salvatore wants a war, I’ll give him one that burns every empire  he owns."

"Yes, Father," I said, smiling over the rim of my glass.

The room smelled like gunpowder and expensive steak. It was the smell of war. One they will never see coming.