My grip tightens as I drag her father forward.He whimpers something.Some pitiful excuse, maybe a plea, but I don’t hear it.I don’t want to.I’ve heard enough lies to last a lifetime.
The slaughterhouse doors groan open, long and low—a warning dragging through the air.Every step we take inside echoes, loud and hollow.The cracked concrete beneath our boots is stained with old blood and bad memories, soaked in so deep the walls still scream with it.
And then, he steps out from the far end of the room, sliding from the shadows like the devil himself.
My father.
Alone.
Hands empty.
But I know better.
His men are here, watching, waiting.Hidden in the walls with fingers wrapped around triggers and orders whispered in their ears like gospel.
He stops a few feet away, posture easy, almost relaxed, as if he’s not standing in the middle of a graveyard built from the deaths of those who wronged him.
Then he speaks.His voice colder than the steel he once taught me to kill with.
“I did warn you what betrayal would cost, Matteo,” he says, eyes locked on mine.“And you still chose a fucking woman over your own blood?”
He says the word woman with the weight of filth in his tone. To him, Emery isn’t a person—she’s a passing whim, a distraction. He sees her as weakness, a soft spot carved for the blade.
But he’s got it fucking wrong.Loving her didn’t make me weak.It made me dangerous.
My muscles strain beneath the skin, like everything inside me is coiled too tight to breathe.
“I chose my own path,” I say, voice sharp, carved from everything he made me into.“You taught me to take what’s mine, to protect what matters.And that’s exactly what I’m fucking doing.”
He laughs.It’s bitter, hollow, a sound that scrapes against the inside of my skull like nails on steel.There’s no humor in it.Just venom.
“What matters in this life is loyalty,” he snaps.“Family.And you spat in my face the second you killed Rocco for that bitch.”
I grab Dante and shove him forward, watching him stumble, a coward through and through.He drops to his knees, hands scraping against the concrete, breath hitching, aware that one wrong move means his end.
“This piece of shit is yours,” I growl.“He betrayed you.Gave her up to save his own skin.So go ahead.Take your revenge.Paint the fucking floor with him if that’s what it takes to remind yourself you’re still a man.”
I step back, heart pounding, rage bubbling beneath the surface, a fuse seconds from detonation.
“But after this?”I lock eyes with him, unflinching, standing my ground.“I’m done.”
My father’s eyes narrow, his posture stiffening, that quiet fury starting to bleed through his polished control.
“You think handing over one traitor absolves you of your sins?”he snarls, stepping forward.“You’re my blood, Matteo.You don’t get to walk away.You answer to me.”
I don’t move.
Don’t blink.
I let his fury hit me like a wave and I fucking stand in it.
“No,” I say.“I don’t answer to anyone anymore.Not you, and not your fucking empire.”I take a step closer, and for the first time in my life, he shifts back.
“This is my last gift to you,” I say, nodding to Emery’s father, still choking on fear at our feet.“A traitor on a silver fucking platter.Do whatever the hell you want with him.Shoot him, string him up, carve your pride back out of his skin.I don’t give a shit.”I take another step, closing the distance between us until we’re toe to toe.“After this, I’m gone.You let me go.You let her go.And you keep your dogs on their fucking leashes.”
His nostrils flare, face tight with rage.“You think you can threaten me?You think you walk out of this and there’s not a bullet waiting for you somewhere down the line?You’re still mine, Matteo.You always will fucking be mine.You walk, I drag you back in chains.”
“You come after us again, and I’ll burn down every piece of your precious kingdom.”I shove him back, my hand still trembling.“I’ll bury your legacy so deep not even your ghosts will remember you.”
