31

The air in the safe house was suffocating. Everyone was on edge, waiting for Emilio Ricci to make his move.

But Dante wasn’t the type to wait.

He was going to end this before it even started.

Luca placed a file on the table, his expression grim. “He’s not hiding. He wants us to find him.”

Dante smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Then let’s give him what he wants.”

I exhaled, my fingers tightening around my gun. “Where is he?”

Luca tapped the file. “Private club downtown. High security. He owns it.”

Dante tilted his head. “And what’s the security like?”

Luca sighed. “Tight. His men know we’re coming.”

I swallowed hard. “So it’s a trap.”

Dante chuckled, his gaze flickering to mine. “Of course it is.”

Luca muttered a curse, dragging a hand through his hair. “We can’t just walk in there.”

Dante’s smirk was slow. “Who said we’d be walking?”

The plan was reckless.

Dante thrived on chaos.

And tonight, we were bringing hell with us.

We arrived at Ricci’s club just past midnight. The music inside pulsed through the walls, the neon glow illuminating the streets.

Luca and Dante’s men spread out, securing the perimeter. I stood beside Dante, my heart steady, my grip firm on my gun.

He glanced at me, his smirk sharp. “Still breathing, princesa?”

I exhaled. “More than ever.”

Dante nodded once, then turned to Luca. “Kill the lights.”

Luca grinned. “With pleasure.”

Seconds later, the entire club went dark.

And then we moved.

The entrance was easy.

The real fight started when we reached the main floor.

Ricci’s men were already waiting, guns drawn, but they weren’t fast enough.

Dante moved first, a single shot to the nearest guard before ducking behind cover. I followed, firing two clean shots, taking down the next man.

Screams erupted as clubgoers ran for cover.

Luca’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “Security’s scrambling. You’ve got three minutes before reinforcements arrive.”

Dante exhaled sharply. “Then let’s not waste time.”

We pushed forward, cutting through Ricci’s men like ghosts.

Then...

We reached the VIP section.

Emilio Ricci stood waiting, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other tucked into his pocket.

He didn’t flinch as we stepped into the room.

He smiled.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Dante raised his gun. “You’ve been real fucking loud, Ricci.”

Emilio chuckled, sipping his drink. “And yet, you still walked into my club.”

I clenched my jaw. “We didn’t come here to talk.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Pity.”

Then...

He snapped his fingers.

A dozen more guards flooded into the room, guns drawn.

My pulse spiked.

Dante barely blinked. “Cute.”

Emilio smirked. “I thought so.”

The air went still.

Then...

Dante fired first.

Chaos erupted.

Bullets tore through the room. Glass shattered.

I ducked behind cover, firing at the nearest guard. The fight was fast, brutal—Ricci’s men were good, but they weren’t us.

One by one, they dropped.

Until finally...

It was just him.

Emilio stood against the bar, blood dripping from a wound in his shoulder, but he was still smiling.

Dante stepped forward, gun aimed at his chest.

Emilio exhaled. “Go on, Castelli. Be the king of the ashes.”

Dante tilted his head. “That’s the plan.”

Then...

He pulled the trigger.

One clean shot.

Emilio Ricci collapsed.

And just like that.

It was over.

The drive back was silent.

No more enemies.

No more war.

Just blood on our hands and fire in our veins.

Luca leaned back in his seat, exhaling sharply. “So that’s it?”

Dante smirked, his fingers tapping against the wheel. “That’s it.”

I swallowed, my chest tight. “And now?”

Dante glanced at me, his gaze burning.

“Now, we build something new.”

And I knew.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just the beginning.

The city felt different now. Quieter.

But I knew better.

Silence didn’t mean safety.

It meant something *new* was coming.

After Emilio Ricci’s death, the underworld didn’t collapse like we expected. It *shifted*.

The power vacuum was immediate, dangerous. Everyone wanted a piece of what Ricci left behind.

Dante saw it happening before anyone else did.

And he was already making his next move.

I found him in his office, staring at a map of the city, his fingers tapping against his glass of whiskey.

He didn’t look up when I entered.

“You’re thinking too much again, *princesa*.”

I exhaled, leaning against the desk. “And you’re not thinking *enough*.”

His smirk was slow, dark. “Oh, I’m thinking plenty.”

I crossed my arms. “So tell me.”

He finally met my gaze. “Ricci’s empire isn’t dead. It’s *waiting*.”

My stomach tightened. “For what?”

Dante tilted his head. “For a new leader.”

I swallowed. “And you think that’s you?”

His smirk widened. “I don’t *think*, Olivia. I *know*.”

The meeting was set for midnight.

Dante wasn’t just taking Ricci’s territory.

He was claiming everything.

And tonight, every powerful man left in the city was about to decide whether they stood *with* him.

Or *against* him.

We arrived at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The air was thick with tension, the scent of smoke and gunpowder clinging to the walls.

Dante walked ahead of me, dressed in all black, exuding control, power.

Luca was at his side, checking his gun. “You sure about this?”

Dante smirked. “No.”

Luca cursed under his breath. “Great.”

I exhaled. “We should have brought more men.”

Dante chuckled. “If we need them, then we’ve already lost.”

His confidence was maddening.

But worse?

It was *addicting*.

Inside, the meeting was already in motion.

Powerful men sat around a long table, their gazes sharp, calculating. They weren’t loyal to Ricci.

They were loyal to *power*.

Dante just had to convince them *he* was the one who had it now.

He stepped forward, placing his hands on the table, his voice smooth. “Gentlemen. Let’s not waste time.”

The man at the head of the table—Giorgio Morello, an old associate of Ricci’s—arched a brow. “You’ve been making a lot of noise, Castelli.”

Dante smirked. “That’s what happens when you take the throne.”

Murmurs filled the room.

Morello leaned back in his chair. “And what makes you think *you* deserve it?”

Dante chuckled, shaking his head. “Because I already won.”

Silence.

Then...

Luca tossed a file onto the table.

Names. Accounts. Business dealings.

Everything Ricci had owned.

Dante tilted his head. “You can fight me for it.” He smirked. “But we all know how *that* ends.”

Morello’s gaze darkened.

Dante didn’t move.

Didn’t *blink*.

The entire room held its breath.

Then...

Morello exhaled.

And *nodded*.

“Looks like we have a new king.”

By the time we left, the city was *ours*.

Dante’s men had already begun moving in, securing every corner of Ricci’s empire, making sure no one dared challenge what had just happened.

Dante didn’t just take power.

He *became* it.

Back at the safe house, I poured myself a drink, my hands steady despite everything that had happened.

Dante stepped behind me, his presence a force I could feel down to my bones.

I turned, meeting his gaze. “So that’s it?”

His smirk was slow, predatory. “That’s it.”

I swallowed. “And what happens now?”

He stepped closer, his fingers tracing down my arm. “Now, we build something new.”

I exhaled. “Together?”

His hand wrapped around my waist, his voice a whisper against my lips.

“Always.”

And when his mouth met mine, I knew...

I had never really been free of him.

And I never *would* be.

Because this wasn’t just his empire now.

It was *ours*.

And I was never looking back.