16

Dante’s words lingered in the air, thick with a promise of something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. But it was too late to turn back now. Nicolas was dead, and Moretti was next.

The thought should have terrified me.

Instead, it steadied me.

Because this time, I wasn’t waiting for the storm to come.

I was walking straight into it.

The next few hours passed in a blur of phone calls, encrypted files, and whispered threats. Dante’s men were already moving, digging into Moretti’s network, tracing money, searching for anything that would give us an advantage.

I sat across from Dante at the long table, scanning the documents spread before us. Bank statements, offshore accounts, hidden assets. Moretti had built an empire in the shadows, and now we were about to burn it to the ground.

I tapped my fingers against the table. “There has to be something we can use.”

Dante leaned back, his gaze steady. “There is.”

I glanced up. “What?”

He smirked. “His weakness.”

I frowned. “Which is?”

Dante pushed a single photo across the table. A woman. Dark hair, sharp eyes, the kind of beauty that made men stupid.

“Elena Moretti,” Dante said, watching me carefully. “His daughter.”

My stomach twisted. “You think we can use her?”

Dante shrugged. “Everyone has leverage. Moretti would kill to protect her.”

I swallowed hard. “And you’re willing to use that against him?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

I shook my head. “We’re not hurting her.”

Dante’s eyes darkened. “I never said we would.”

I wanted to believe him.

But I had seen what he was capable of.

And I wasn’t sure there were any lines left he wouldn’t cross.

The plan was simple.

Or as simple as it could be when going up against one of the most dangerous men in the city.

We weren’t going after Moretti directly. Not yet. That would be suicide. Instead, we were going after his money. His influence. The foundation of everything he had built.

Dante’s men had already traced several of his hidden accounts—ones even Moretti’s own people didn’t know we had found.

“We hit him where it hurts,” Dante said, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he leaned over the table. “We make him desperate.”

I crossed my arms. “And then what?”

Dante met my gaze, something cold settling in his expression. “Then he makes a mistake.”

It took less than twenty-four hours for Moretti to react.

A half-dozen of his assets were frozen. A few offshore accounts suddenly had zero balance. His men were scrambling, trying to find out who had the power to hit him this hard, this fast.

We had thrown the first punch.

And Moretti was already bleeding.

Dante’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, listened for a moment, then smirked. “He’s calling a meeting.”

I straightened. “With who?”

Dante’s smirk widened. “Everyone who still matters in his world.”

I swallowed hard. “And what do we do?”

Dante leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“We crash the party.”

The meeting was set to take place at one of Moretti’s private estates just outside the city.

A fortress.

A place where no one got in without an invitation.

But Dante wasn’t the type to ask permission.

We arrived just before midnight, dressed in black, moving like shadows through the perimeter. Dante’s men had already taken care of the security cameras, rerouting the feeds.

The plan was simple—get in, listen, get out.

If things went to hell, we had backup waiting.

I followed Dante through the side entrance, my pulse steady, my heart racing in my chest. He moved with ease, his confidence unshaken, his presence commanding even in the darkness.

I hated how safe that made me feel.

We slipped into the main hall, hidden in the shadows above the meeting room. Below us, Moretti sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by his most trusted men.

The conversation was low, tense.

Until someone mentioned my name.

I went still.

Moretti’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “Find her. End this.”

Dante’s fingers brushed against mine, just for a second. A silent message. Stay still. Stay quiet.

I clenched my fists.

I should have been scared.

I should have been running.

But instead, I was waiting for Dante to give the order.

Because I wanted to end this too.

Moretti didn’t know we were listening.

Didn’t know we were already three steps ahead.

By the time he realized, it would be too late.

Dante’s grip tightened on my arm as the meeting ended, his voice barely a whisper. “We move now.”

I nodded, following him back through the estate, slipping past guards, disappearing into the night.

By the time we reached the car, my heart was pounding for an entirely different reason.

Moretti had just signed his own death sentence.

And we were the ones holding the pen.

The drive back was silent, tense.

I should have been relieved that we had the upper hand.

But something about this felt too easy.

Too predictable.

I turned to Dante. “He’s going to retaliate.”

Dante smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

I exhaled. “And if we’re wrong? If we underestimated him?”

Dante’s gaze flickered to me, something dark in his expression.

“Then we don’t make it out alive.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

His smirk didn’t fade. “I wasn’t joking.”

A chill ran through me.

For the first time since this all started, I realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t just about Moretti.

This was about me.

About the fact that I had stepped into a world where power was everything.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave.

Dante must have seen it on my face because his smirk faded, his voice quieter now. “You can still walk away.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“No, I can’t.”

His expression darkened, like he had been expecting that answer.

And then, finally, he nodded.

“Then we finish this.”

I looked out the window, watching the city blur past us, knowing that when this was over—

I wouldn’t be the same.