30

The moment we left the Ricci estate, I knew everything had changed.

Elena was gone.

Ricci was dead.

And there was no going back.

Dante drove in silence, his grip tight around the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. Luca followed in the second SUV, our convoy cutting through the city like shadows in the night.

My heart was still racing, adrenaline burning through my veins, but it wasn’t just from the gunfire or the chaos we had left behind.

It was from the look in Elena’s eyes.

The betrayal. The hurt.

She would never forgive me.

I had known that was a possibility from the beginning, but I hadn’t realized how much it would feel like a knife to the ribs.

Dante’s voice finally broke the silence. “You did what had to be done.”

I exhaled sharply, staring out the window. “Did I?”

His smirk was slow, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You tell me.”

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into fists. “She didn’t deserve this.”

Dante’s voice was calm. “Neither did you.”

I turned to him, my chest tight. “That’s not the same thing.”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “You really think she would have let you walk away if she had known who you were from the beginning?”

I swallowed hard.

No.

She wouldn’t have.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Dante sighed, rolling his shoulders. “You’re thinking too much.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “And you’re not thinking enough.”

His smirk faded. “Olivia.”

I shook my head. “I know what we just did. I know what we had to do. But I don’t have to feel good about it.”

Dante was quiet for a long moment.

Then he murmured, “That’s why you’re different from me.”

I turned away. “Maybe I don’t want to be different anymore.”

His fingers tightened around the wheel. “Then stop caring.”

I knew that was impossible.

But I didn’t say it.

Because part of me wished I could.

Back at the safe house, the air was thick with tension.

Luca poured himself a drink the second we walked through the doors, exhaling sharply as he sank into a chair. “Well, that was a fucking mess.”

Dante smirked, unbuttoning his cuffs. “But a successful one.”

Luca scoffed. “You call that successful?” He gestured to me. “Her cover is blown. Elena will talk, and we just painted a massive target on our backs.”

Dante rolled his shoulders. “Let them come.”

Luca cursed under his breath, then downed his drink in one gulp. “You’re insane.”

Dante chuckled. “That’s why we win.”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “So what now?”

Dante turned to me, his gaze dark. “Now, we prepare.”

I exhaled. “For what?”

His smirk was sharp, lethal. “For war.”

The retaliation came faster than expected.

Less than twenty-four hours after Ricci’s death, the first hit came.

One of Dante’s safe houses was hit—five men dead before the rest even saw the attack coming.

By the time the news reached us, Dante was already making calls, his body thrumming with controlled fury.

Luca slammed his fist on the table. “I told you. It wasn’t over.”

Dante barely glanced up. “Did I say it was?”

Luca exhaled sharply. “Who do you think made the call?”

Dante smirked, but his eyes were ice-cold. “Does it matter?”

I swallowed hard. “If we don’t know who’s behind it, how do we stop them?”

Dante turned to me, stepping closer, his voice low. “We don’t stop them.”

I frowned. “Then what do we do?”

His smirk widened. “We make them bleed.”

The next week was nothing short of war.

Hit after hit. Bodies on both sides.

Dante was relentless. Every attack against us was answered with one twice as brutal.

Blood filled the streets.

And I was right in the middle of it.

I wasn’t just watching anymore.

I was fighting.

Shooting. Planning. Standing beside Dante as we tore through every name still loyal to Ricci’s empire.

I should have been terrified.

But I wasn’t.

I was alive.

Dante noticed.

One night, after another long battle, he found me in the study, cleaning my gun.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“You’re different.”

I smirked, not looking up. “So are you.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Do you regret it?”

I finally met his gaze. “No.”

His smirk was slow, dark. “That’s my girl.”

A shiver ran through me.

Because I knew what he meant.

And I knew he was right.

I wasn’t the same woman I had been when this started.

And I didn’t want to be.

The final battle came faster than any of us expected.

A name surfaced.

Emilio Ricci.

Vittorio’s brother.

The man who had been pulling strings from the shadows.

Dante smirked when he heard the name. “Of course it’s family.”

Luca exhaled. “He’s coming.”

Dante’s expression turned lethal. “Then we meet him halfway.”

I stood beside him, my gun already loaded.

No more waiting.

No more playing defense.

This was the end.

And I would be standing right beside Dante when we finished it.

For good.