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“It’s okay, V,” he smiles faintly. “You will lead our family into something better than what our father and grandfather built.”

I glance at Alex, who’s watching Luca with quiet intensity. And suddenly, the truth is undeniable. brother has spent his entire life fighting wars no one else could see.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Never been more certain of anything.” He squeezes my hand. “The old guard is dying, Vesper. Let them die with their prejudices.”

A sound escapes me—half breath, half disbelief—surprising us both. It’s sharp, almost out of place in this blood-soaked chapel, surrounded by bodies and shattered glass. The absurdity of it all settles over me like a punchline delivered too late.

“What?” Luca asks, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing,” I murmur, shaking my head and squeezing his hand. “It’s just...when I woke up this morning, I didn’t expect to become the head of a crime family before lunch.”

“You mean,two.” Luca’s lips twitch, and then he's grinning, the expression tugging painfully at his battered features but no less real.

Alex glances between us with something like stunned amusement, clearly wondering if we’ve lost our minds.

“I think there’s two men over there who want to see you,” Luca mentions, nodding toward Oz and Zaire.

I support Luca as we make our way toward Z and Oz. My brother leans heavily against me, his breathing labored but determined. Z struggles to his feet as we approach, grimacing through the pain of his shoulder wound. Blood has soaked the entire left side of his tuxedo.

“Took you long enough,” he manages, the corner of his mouth lifting in a pained smirk. “I was starting to think you were going to let that old bastard walk out of here.”

“Never,” I promise, reaching out to touch his face, reassuring myself he's real and alive beneath my fingers. “How bad is it?”

“I've had worse,” Z dismisses, though the pallor of his skin tells a different story. He nods toward Oz, who's now sitting up with Talon's help. “He took one to the chest. Vest caught most of it, but he's got at least two broken ribs.”

Oz coughs, wincing as he presses a hand to his sternum. “Three, minimum,” he corrects, his voice raspy but determined. “Worth it to see Victor's face when you pulled that trigger.”

I scan the chapel, taking in the carnage we've created. Bodies litter the once-pristine floor. Blood stains the marble like abstract art, pooling around fallen forms and broken glass. In death, it's impossible to tell which side they belonged to. Blood is just blood, after all.

Talon appears at my side, his jacket torn and bloodied but his movements sure as he helps support Oz. “We need to get out of here,” he says, scanning the devastation around us. “Police will be here soon.”

“Not in this part of Russia. Victor owns the local authorities. They won't come without his order.”

I turn toward Victor's body, sprawled beside his sons on the altar steps. Even in death, he looks imperial. A fallen king surrounded by the ruins of his kingdom. The diamond necklaceweighs heavy against my collarbone, I reach up and snap the clasp, letting Victor's diamond collar fall to the floor beside his corpse.

"My son," I remind him. "Victor told me he is at a hunting lodge. Do you know where that is?"

Z pushes himself fully upright, swaying slightly before steadying himself. "I know the place. It’s his private retreat.”

"Then that's where we're going," I declare.

"You're not going anywhere except a hospital," Luca protests, eyeing the twins' injuries with growing concern. “All of you need medical attention.”

“We have a doctor.” I shift to look in the direction I had last seen the good doctor, only to find his lifeless body draped across a pew. “Correction, wehada doctor.”

“We've come too far to stop now,” I say, scanning the room for any survivors loyal to Victor. “We’ll get another doctor. They can’t be that hard to find with the kind of cash Victor probably has in his sock drawer. But first, we find my son.”

Z nods, his face set with unwavering determination despite the blood soaking through his sleeve. “The hunting lodge is about two hours north.”

“How many men?” Talon asks, already calculating the odds.

“Protecting his only heir? A half a dozen, maybe more," Z replies. “Elite security. They'll die before letting anyone near the boy.”

“Then they'll die,” I state simply.

Luca studies my face, perhaps seeing something there that concerns him. “Vesper, you're not thinking clearly. Look around you—we're all injured. We need to regroup, come up with a plan.”