The sight of him dying in my arms triggers something primal and violent that drowns out every rational thought. This isn’t about strategy anymore, or family honor, or even survival. I don’t even care that they tried to kill me during the last trial.
This is about the fact that someone just shot the man I love, and they’re going to fucking pay for it with everything they have.
“Get…medic,” he gasps, his eyes struggling to focus on my face. “Then…end them all.”
Our soldiers watch as Alessandro’s eyes close and his body goes limp in my arms.
“No!” I scream, frantically moving my hands to his wrist and neck, desperately looking for a pulse. My chest heaves with sobs as my hands slip on his skin due to the amount of blood on them.Please have a pulse. Please be alive.“Y-you can’t leave me,” I cry out. “I love you.”
There. A pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. My momentary joy is quickly overtaken by a need to get him to safety immediately.
“Antonio!” I shout. “Get medics here now! And get Alessandro to safety!”
“Already on it,” Antonio responds, signaling to two soldiers who rush forward with a stretcher.
The soldiers carefully lift Alessandro and gently move him to the stretcher. The thought of him not being by my side sends a wave of anxiety so strong I am nearly knocked over, but I hold myself back. I can’t fall apart right now. I have to be strong for the soldiers who are watching me. They are waiting to see what I do next. Will I break down or will I pull myself together and be a leader?
They’re going to see a leader.
“I’m going to kill every last one of them,” I say aloud as Alessandro is stretchered away, loud enough that my men can hear me. “They’re going topayfor what they’ve done to the DeLucas.”
Something inside me snaps completely. The sight of his blood on the courtyard stones, the memory of his labored breathing, the knowledge that he might die because of Dominic’s war—it all crystallizes into pure, focusedrage.
I slowly turn to face the soldiers around me, my hands still covered in Alessandro’s blood. They can see the change in my face, the way grief and fury have transformed me into something cold-blooded and ruthless.
“Listen to me,” I call out, my voice carrying across the courtyard despite the ongoing gunfire. “They shot Alessandro. They came into our home, they tried to destroy our family, and they shot the man I love.”
The soldiers around me are nodding, their own anger building as they see their future don covered in blood.
“So now we’re going to show them what happens when you corner the DeLucas,” I continue, pulling out my weapon. “No mercy, no prisoners, no survivors. We end this tonight.”
Yes,all three voices agree in perfect harmony.End them all.
“Antonio!” I turn to Matteo’s right-hand man. “Where’s their command structure? Where are they coordinating from?”
“We’re picking up heavy radio chatter from the west building,” he reports immediately, his own face smeared with blood. “That’s where their leadership is holed up. They’ve got good sightlines and multiple escape routes from there.”
“Excellent. We’re going there,” I declare, thrusting my weapon into the air “Move out! For Alessandro! For the family!”
“For Alessandro! For the family!” comes the rallying cry.
The assault on the main building is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Our soldiers follow me with the kind of desperate fury that comes from watching their leaders bleed. We move through the compound like a force of nature, destroying every Calabrese position we encounter.
I’m not thinking anymore. I’m just reacting, letting muscle memory and training guide me while fury provides the fuel. Every shot I fire, every enemy I drop, brings me one step closer to the man responsible for Alessandro’s blood on my hands.
Show no mercy,Giuseppe demands as we close in on our objective.
The path to Dominic is littered with bodies—his soldiers who thought they could hold defensive positions against a woman motivated by love and vengeance. They were wrong.
When we finally breach the west wing, Dominic Calabrese steps out from behind an overturned desk, flanked by his remaining soldiers. He’s not hiding anymore and not commanding from safety. His expensive suit is torn and bloodstained, his dark hair disheveled, but his eyes burn with desperate fury.
“Bianca DeLuca,” he snarls, raising his weapon. “Giuseppe’s little bastard daughter. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
He wants to face you directly,Matteo’s voice observes.
He thinks he can intimidate you,Sophia whispers contemptuously.
Good,Giuseppe roars with savage satisfaction.Let him come.
