Chapter 79
Dominic’s POV
The docks always smelled like salt and rust and dirt. Someone wasn’t cleaning the sea. How awful of them.
Midnight moon cloaked the water in a thick black sheen, broken only by the occasional ripple or flash of a passing patrol light. But not tonight. Tonight was different.
Tonight, even the ocean felt like it was holding its breath.
Luca stood beside me, gloved hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning the perimeter. A silent shadow behind him- Matteo–checked his watch like he was hoping someone would give him a reason to shoot something.
“They’re late,” Luca muttered.
“They’ll come,” I said, adjusting the grip on my gun. “Rats never miss when there’s cheese on the table.”
We waited in silence.
Then–movement.
A car rolled in slow, headlights off. A black sedan. Tinted windows. Subtle. Expensive. Definitely not local muscle. The car stopped about fifteen feet away.
Two men got out.
Both wore black.
Both armed.
And one of them–one I recognized.
Dario Ferranti.
Victoria’s lapdog.
Dario had been her personal cleaner back in Rome. Used to gut her messes and mop the floors with silence. Slick bastard with a permanent smirk and a knife hidden in his boot.
The second man kept his head low, but the way he moved, fast and twitchy, said he was hired muscle–not worth my time.
But Dario?
Dario was worth everything.
He stepped forward, adjusting his gloves like we were about to shake hands. “You’re early, De Luca.”
“You’re sloppy,” I replied, stepping into the open. “Sending a second–rate sniper to do your dirty work.”
He grinned. “Didn’t know you cared about the Aria girl so much. Or the parents.”
The smile faded from my face.
“Say her name again,” I said calmly, “and I’ll rip out your tongue and mail it to Victoria in a wine box.”
Dario chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Always so dramatic.”
“Always so disposable,” I replied:
Luca stepped up beside me, hand resting on the handle of his blade. “We doing this or not?”
Dario raised a brow. “I was just the messenger tonight. We know you got the sniper man. We always know. But I still came to warn you. You can’t touch us. Mikael deserve to be on top because he is way more powerful than you and he will fucking enjoying breaking you and that girl to be on top. Just wanted to let you know–this is only the beginning. Mikael’s not interested in small games anymore.”
“I figured.” I nodded slowly. “And you walked right into my hands to tell me that.”
Before he could move, Matteo moved forward.
One strike. Gun to the throat. Dario dropped like a stone, gasping.
I stepped over him, crouched low.
Rome
“This isn’t Rome,” I whispered. “You don’t walk in here and speak my name like you own it. Like they say whe behave like the romans. I am the Lord here. And I am the Lord in many places. You want to send a message?” I grabbed his chin. “Then listen carefully, Ferranti.”
He gurgled something.
I leaned in. “Tell Mikael… the next time he sends someone to talk to me, I’m sending their head back. And when I come for him? It won’t be a sniper. It’ll be a fucking parade. But wait you won’t be alive to do that.”
I stood and nodded to Matteo.
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A quick snap. His neck twisted violently to the side.
Silence.
I turned to the second guy–the twitchy one–and pointed to the dead body. “Leave him on Victoria’s doorstep. Wrap him up nicely.”
The man nodded so fast I thought his neck would break too.
“Go.”
He ran.
And we left the docks with nothing but the sound of the tide trying to wash away the blood.
By the time I got back to the house, the air felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Not the usual kind of quiet–this one was intentional.
Planned.
I moved through the front entrance fast, gun drawn.
“Nico?” I called.
No answer.
My stomach coiled.
I took the stairs two at a time, ready to kill.
Then-
I saw him. In the hall.
Nico leaned against the wall near Aria’s room, a cold fury in his eyes. “She’s still sleeping,” he said. “Didn’t hear anything.”
My eyes swept the hallway. “Then what the hell happened?”
He nodded down the hall.
I followed.
There, nailed to the bedroom door across from Aria’s-
Was a box.
Small. Wooden. Bloodstained.
I didn’t need to open it to know.
But I did anyway.
Inside-
Gino’s hand. My best spy.
Cleanly severed at the wrist.
Wrapped in one of my monogrammed handkerchiefs.
Beneath it, a folded piece of parchment.
I unfolded it slowly.
“Blood for blood. The girl’s next.”
My vision went red.
Nico stepped beside me. “You want me to get the team?”
“No,” I said quietly.
I looked down at the message again, then back at Aria’s door.
“I want Mikael to watch everything he loves burn before he ever gets to breathe near her again.”
My hand curled into a fist.
He got in.
Again.
This wasn’t a breach. It was a message written in blood–and worse, it was in my house. My fucking house. The one place I
swore was untouchable.
“Get everyone up,” I barked at Nico, not taking my eyes off the box.
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“Already did,” he said. “Alessio’s locking down the perimeter. Luca’s calling in backup.”
“Good.” I turned sharply. “I want a full sweep. Every camera. Every blind spot. Every fucking vent. If a rat so much as breathed near this place, I want to know how.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“No.” I faced him now. “You and Matteo personally lead the rounds. No delegating. And I want full rotations tripled. Anyone slacking–fire them. Or shoot them. I don’t give a fuck.”
Nico nodded, jaw tight. “Understood.”
I turned to leave, but paused. “And get rid of that hand. Burn it.”
He didn’t ask questions.
By the time I reached the hallway outside her room, my pulse was still hammering. Fury ran hot under my skin, but there was something else now. Something quieter. Heavier.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for me.
For her.
I pushed open the door.
The light from the hallway spilled across the bed, soft and gold.
Aria lay curled on her side, her hair scattered like silk over the pillow. The blanket was pulled up to her waist, the slight movement of her chest the only sign she was even alive. Peaceful. Untouched by the storm I’d dragged her into.
I crossed the room slowly, my footsteps silent.
I stood over her for a long moment, just watching. Memorizing every curve of her face, every freckle, every breath. She looked younger like this. Softer. Like the girl she could’ve been, if life hadn’t been so cruel.
My fingers twitched.
I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.
She stirred faintly but didn’t wake.
My hand lingered, tracing the edge of her jaw, barely touching. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. But something about the way her brow furrowed even in sleep broke something inside me.
I had done this.
Dragged her into this world. Dared to keep her. Dared to want her. Dared to think I could shield her from the fire I’d spent my entire life feeding.
My hand dropped.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, careful not to shift the mattress too much. For a moment, I just sat there. Breathing. Thinking.
Wishing.
I lowered my head, pressing my elbows to my knees. The weight in my chest refused to lift.
And then I said it.
Low.
Honest.
The truth I’d been choking on for weeks.
“I’m sorry.”
The words sounded foreign. Ugly. Not something I was used to offering.
But I meant it.
She stirred again, her lips parting like she might speak–but no words came. Just a soft sigh.
I turned slightly, brushing my knuckles over the back of her hand, then leaned down.
Close.
So close.
“If I die,” I whispered, “you’ll be free.”
Her lashes fluttered.
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“I’d rather burn this city to the ground than watch you bleed for my mistakes.”
I kissed her forehead softly and let my lips rest there for just a second longer than I should’ve.
Then I stood, cold rage settling back into my bones.
Mikael wanted a war?
Fine.
I was done waiting.
I was going to release the information. A lot of men is about to lose their wealth.
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Chapter 80
