47

47
Vivienne

“About stepping into this.” His gaze flicked to me, sharp and final. “You’ve done enough. You’ve said enough. You stay here.”

I laughed, it felt bitter and disbelieving. “Stay here? While Marisol rots in some cage by the docks? While they carve her apart just to prove how clever they are?”

“She is bait, Vivienne,” he snapped. “That’s the point of this. They want you charging in blind. They want you off-balance. And I won’t let you be the fool who gives them what they want.”

“And what—” I stepped closer “—you’ll go play savior without me? Pretend you can fix this with one strike of your bloody chessboard strategy? You think I’m going to sit by the window and wait for word while you decide if my sister lives or dies?”

His nostrils flared in anger. “You're her boss .”

That cut. I felt the sting, deep, but I refused to show it. “She’s more blood to me than anyone in this house. Even you who claims to be my husband. And I’ll die before I leave her to them.”

“You are reckless. You let your heart blind you. And that will get you killed.”

“Better my heart than your arrogance,” I shot back. “At least one of us still remembers what we’re fighting for.”

We were nose to nose now, the heat of his anger pressing against mine. For a moment I thought he might grab me, shake me, force me to see reason as he called it. But his hand only curled tighter around the card.

“I could knock you out” he said.

“You could try.”

We stared at each other, a battle of wills with no winner. At last, he let out a sharp breath through his teeth, gaze breaking away.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But when this goes wrong—and it will—I’ll drag you out myself if I have to.”

“Try it,” I whispered.

\---

We didn’t waste time. Leo, bruised and battered though he was, insisted on coming. Bruno, who was my mountain of muscle, he loaded the van with enough guns to arm a battalion. Lucian summoned his own shadows—Vito and Davide.

The six of us drove through the sleeping city, the streets painted in lantern light and mist rolling offe. My chest hammered with every turn. Every shadow felt like it was watching us, whispering Marisol’s name.

The safehouse was ahead, an old warehouse leaning against the water’s edge. Its windows were black, the doors chained, yet the hair on my neck prickled. They were inside. Waiting.

Lucian held up a hand as the van stopped. “We go in quiet, split into pairs. Vivienne—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to hang back.” I shoved a pistol into my holster and checked the blade at my thigh. “I’m going in front.”

His eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d argue again. Then, with a frustrated curse under his breath, he gestured. “Stay close to me.”

The six of us moved as onel. Leo cut the chain with trembling hands, and the doors groaned open.

The smell hit first—oil, rust, and something metallic underneath. Blood.

We slipped inside.

And hell broke loose.

Figures dropped from the roof. Men in black hoods, faces wrapped so only their eyes gleamed. They swarmed us in silence,

Bruno roared, he was barreling into them like a bull. Leo fired wild shots, his aim was a bit unsteady from his injuries. While Vito and Davide cut through the first wave with brutal force.

I fought like fire. Every strike was Marisol’s name. Blade in one hand, pistol in the other, I cut down the first man who lunged at me, felt the spray of blood hot across my cheek.

But they kept coming. More and more, silent and relentless, as if the shadows themselves had teeth.

One caught me from behind. My pistol clattered to the floor as he dragged me back. His arm wrapped around my throat, tightening his grip. My vision suddenly blurred.

I clawed at him, drove my elbow into his ribs, but he didn’t budge. The world stopped to the pressure crushing my windpipe.

Then—

A sound ripped through the warehouse.

Lucian.

He came out of the chaos like a storm, eyes blazing, and with a feral roar he seized my attacker. One brutal twist—bone cracked under his hands. The man dropped like a puppet with its strings cut

Lucian stood over me,his eyes werewild. For a moment I saw something raw in him—something unchained, terrifying and beautiful all at once.

“Stay with me,” he growled.

I coughed, dragging air back into my lungs, and nodded.

We pressed on together, cutting through the swarm. I moved with him, our strikes were brutal,with both rage and strategy were tangled in one rhythm.

At last, the tide broke. The last masked man fell with Bruno’s fist caving in his skull. The warehouse rang with silence, only our breaths filling the void.

And then—

“Vivienne?”

Her voice. It was Weak, ragged, but alive.

I stumbled forward, past the wreckage of bodies, until I saw her—Marisol. Bound to a chair, bruised, blood on her lip but her eyes clear.

I dropped to my knees, tearing at the ropes until she was free. Then I pulled her into me, crushing her against my chest.

Tears burned my eyes as I whispered, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Her arms clung to me, trembling. “I knew you’d come.”

“I’d burn the world if I had to,” I whispered into her hair.

Behind me, Lucian stood silent, his face was unreadable.

\---

The van rattled back through the night, the air thick with exhaustion and blood. Bruno drove, Leo half-dozing against the window. Vito and Davide talked to each other in Italian, keeping their eyes sharp for tails.

I sat with Marisol pressed against me.

She coughed, her voice was hoarse. “It wasn’t all Riveras.”

Lucian’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“One of them—he wore a red mask. Different from the others. He… he was the leader. The rest listened to him.” Her eyes went distant, fear flickering across her face. “He bent close and whispered something in my ear.”

My stomach knotted. “What did he say?”

Her hand trembled in mine as she repeated it.

“To break a queen, first steal her knight."

I met Lucian’s eyes across the van. For once, there was no banter left, no fire of pride or fury. Only the cold realization that the game had just shifted.

And somewhere in the dark of the city, a man in a red mask was already planning his next move.