"I gave the order." I pulled back, looked up at him. "When I turned my back, when I walked away—that was the signal. I chose his death."
"Yes." Dante's hand cupped my face. "You did. How does it feel?"
I searched for guilt. For horror. For the crushing weight of patricide.
Found only relief.
"Like breathing," I said finally. "For the first time in five years."
CHAPTER 25
Dante
The cathedral loomed behind us, a crumbling monument to old power. Rain misted down, washing away the blood and echoes of gunfire. Julietta stood beside me, her face tipped up to the night sky, eyes closed as if tasting freedom for the first time.
I watched her, this woman who had been a pawn, a princess, a captive. Now, she was none of those things. She was a queen. My queen.
"We need to sweep the city," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet. "Every corner, every alley. Anyone loyal to Lorenzo needs to go."
Julietta opened her eyes, looked at me. Nodded. "I'll coordinate with Vince. We'll have lists within the hour."
I squeezed her hand, then turned to my men. "You heard her. Let's move."
The city became our chessboard. We worked through the night, Julietta and I side by side, directing our forces with precision. Loyalists were rooted out, assets seized, territories reclaimed. By dawn, the Altieri empire was dismantled, absorbed into my own.
At the Apex, I called a meeting with my capos. They filed in, expressions ranging from wary to eager. A new order was rising, and they knew it.
"Gentlemen," I began, standing at the head of the table. Julietta stood beside me, not behind. "Lorenzo Altieri is dead. His empire is ours."
Murmurs rippled through the room. I let them, watching each man closely. Who celebrated? Who shifted uncomfortably?
"With Lorenzo's death," I continued, "his territories, his assets, his operations—everything is ours. We'll need to move quickly to consolidate. Marcos, I want you working with Julietta on the distribution networks. Torres, you'll handle the offshore accounts. Ferrara—"
"Sir." Torres stood, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to Julietta and inclined his head. "Donna Taviani. If you'll permit me, I'd like to pledge my loyalty. What you did at the cathedral—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It took courage. And vision. You've earned my respect."
One by one, the others rose. Ferrara. Petrov. DeLuca. Rothstein. Each of them acknowledged her not as my wife, but as their leader.
Marcos was last. He crossed to her side of the table and extended his hand. "It's an honor to serve beside you, Donna."
Julietta shook his hand, her grip firm, her eyes fierce. "The honor is mine. Now let's get to work."
One by one, the capos voiced their agreement. Those who hesitated were noted. They would be watched, their loyalties tested. Dissent would not betolerated.
The meeting adjourned, I pulled Julietta aside. "You did well."
She smiled, a sharp edge to it. "I've had good teachers."
I chuckled, tracing her jaw with my thumb. "Rest. You've earned it."
She caught my wrist, held it. "Later. First, we have work to do."
We spent the day entrenched in strategy. Julietta commanded meetings, gave orders, received respect. She wasn't under my protection anymore; she was beside me, wielding power like she'd been born to it.
Watching her, I felt something unfamiliar. Pride. Not in possession or conquest, but in partnership. In the fierce, brilliant woman she'd become.
Night fell. The compound quieted, the city outside humming with our new order. In our bedroom, Julietta stood by the window, looking out at the lights below.
"You're thinking," I said, closing the door behind me.
