118

118
VINCENZO 

The house had settled.

Enzo was finally asleep—a soft, innocent snore tucked beneath superhero sheets. She had curled beside him on the bed after whispering, “Just five minutes,” and I hadn’t had the heart to wake her.

So I left them—safe. At peace.

And came here.

Back to the battlefield.

Pedro was already waiting in the study when I stepped in, two tumblers of whiskey on the table between us, maps, files, and digital blueprints lit by the soft glow of the lamp overhead.

He didn’t say a word as I sat down—just slid one of the glasses across to me.

“Did you sleep long?” he finally asked.

“Long enough to remember why I can’t afford to.” I took a slow sip, the burn grounding me. “What do we know?”

“Two things: good news and bad news.” Pedro said. The folder from earlier had been neatly placed on the table before me.

Pedro then leaned forward, pointing to the digital layout of our J&W docks and a red flag icon blinking near the shipping routes. “Movement in sector four. The Glaziers may be trying to reroute some of the Colombian supply through a secondary carrier.”

I frowned. “After I warned the Colombians?”

“They’re not stupid. They’re just faster than we thought.” He paused, then added, “Antonio’s been quiet too.”

I set the glass down, harder than I meant to. “Too quiet.”

Pedro gave a grim nod. “His usual burner’s dead. And we got pinged by an anonymous IP last night—someone accessed your financial logs from a dead zone in Zurich. That’s not small-time.”

I stared at the screen. Every piece moved too cleanly. Every delay felt… orchestrated.

“This isn’t just about territory anymore,” I muttered. “Someone’s making this personal.”

Pedro didn't flinch. “You think it’s Alejandra?”

I shook my head. “Not alone. She’s reckless and emotional. But someone’s guiding her. Helping her aim her rage.”

“Antonio?”

My jaw clenched. “Maybe. Or worse—he’s promised her something.”

Silence stretched between us before Pedro asked the question neither of us had wanted to voice.

“You think Don Ceballos is going to get involved?”

I met his eyes. “I won't put anything past him; he knows his daughter is no longer my responsibility, and another woman lives with me…”

The sentence didn’t need to end.

Pedro sat back. “Then we better take this fight to them before it lands at our doorstep.”

I nodded. “First thing in the morning, I want our private jet prepped. We’re flying to Marseille. Someone’s been brokering the Glaziers supply from there. I want to know who.”

“And Antonio?”

I looked down at the file in front of me—one with too many red flags and not enough answers. “I am sure he will be in Marseille.”

Pedro glanced at the file. 

“And the good news?” I asked.

Pedro rose with a firm nod, picking up the file and handing it over. 

“It’s done,” he said.

I leaned back in the leather chair, fingers steepled under my chin. “Tell me how much.”

He tilted the screen toward me while I went through the hard copies of the transferred shares from J&W shareholders.

51.3%.

The number glowed like a brand on fire.

A smile—slow and quiet—tugged at the corner of my mouth. I rose from my seat and walked to the tall windows, staring out at the waking city below.

“Julian Gray just became the minority in his own empire,” I murmured. “Poetic, isn’t it?”

Pedro crossed his arms. “You’ve been buying the shares through blind trusts for months now. You were always two moves ahead.”

“That’s what war is, Pedro. Not bullets. Not blood.” I rose up and walked to the window before turning back to him. “It’s patience. It’s power. It’s the moment your enemy thinks they’re about to strike—only to find their blade was forged in your fire.”

Pedro’s mouth twitched. “What now?”

I stepped back to my desk and opened the custom silver case lying at the center. Inside was a single document—the final acquisition agreement. I picked it up, signed it with the Montclair pen my father once used, and sealed it in the envelope with my wax insignia.

“Now,” I said, voice calm, “we let them feel it.”

Pedro raised a brow. “You want to deliver this personally?”

“No.” I looked up at him. “Have it hand-delivered to Julian’s office. Make sure it arrives after he’s finished his morning coffee.”

“And when he reads it?”

“He’ll realize he doesn’t own the company he’s built his identity on. He’s not the alpha in his pack anymore.” I exhaled. “And by the time he reaches for retaliation, he’ll find every weapon dull and every ally… mine.”

Pedro gave a low, admiring whistle. “You don’t want war. You want obedience.”

“No,” I said, stepping closer. “I want justice. They came for me. For her. For Enzo. I didn’t start this—but I will end it.”

The door buzzed. One of my men entered, informing me the plane to Marseille was ready to fly the next morning. 

As Pedro and I made our way out, I paused by the threshold and glanced back at the envelope on my desk—sealed, quiet, final.

Checkmate.

And Julian didn’t even know he’d been playing.

Before we left, Pedro paused at the door. “Are you sure you’re ready for what you might find?”

“I know what Antonio is capable of; I won’t be surprised by how much damage he has caused.”

I headed back to the room to join them. As I lay there with them, my heart melted a million times at the peace. They were coming with me. I couldn't afford leaving them behind when all this chaos was brewing. 

KADIE 

Sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, brushing warm strokes across my skin. I blinked against the soft glow, stretching slightly as my hand reached to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

The sheets were cool.

I sat up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. That’s when I heard it—the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet zip of a suitcase.

Turning my head, I saw him.

Vincenzo 

His back was to me, shirtless, muscles tense under the dim light, his hand methodically folding one of Enzo’s tiny shirts before placing it neatly into the small bag beside the larger one.

He looked exhausted.

Focused.

But not angry.

Not rushed.

Just... prepared.

“Enzo?” My voice came out groggy and soft. Yes, I had gotten used to calling him Enzo.

He turned, a small smile flickering across his face when he saw I was awake. “Hey.”

I slid my legs off the bed, eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you doing?”

He walked over, crouched in front of me, and took my hand.

“We’re going on a short trip,” he said, voice calm but firm. “Just you, me, and Enzo.”

I blinked. “A trip? Now?”

“Yes.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Somewhere quiet. Safe. I think we all need a little peace… especially after everything.”

I searched his face. There was more behind his words—something he wasn’t saying. Not yet. But there was no panic in his eyes. No shadows. Just… intention.

“Is this because of Alejandra?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer immediately. He kissed my knuckles instead, then looked up.

“This is because I need you two close. Away from noise. Away from enemies. Away from anything that could reach us right now.” A pause. “I want Enzo to laugh without us glancing over our shoulders. I want you to sleep without locking the door.”

I swallowed hard.

“And I want to hold you in a place where I’m not a Don… just a man who loves his family.”

My chest tightened. The words hit deeper than he realized. Maybe deeper than he intended.

“We're a family now?” My voice was tinged with sarcasm. 

“What do you think?” He whispered into my ear, his breath brushing my neck briefly.

He stood, offering me his hand. “Pack light. We leave in two hours.”

I took his hand, then stood up, but I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“You scare me sometimes, Enzo.”

He turned slowly. “Why?”

“Because I think if anyone tried to hurt me or Enzo again... you’d burn the world.”

His eyes didn’t waver. “Then they should pray I never have to.”

He walked out while I continued packing the bags. And an hour later, we were all settled in for the flight to wherever, and it wasn't just us; Pedro and Charlie were there. 

This wasn't just an ordinary vacation; something was going down.