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I crouch on the rooftop of an abandoned building overlooking one of Leone’s strongholds. The music from their party blares so loud that I can feel the bass rattling in my chest. They’re too drunk on their own power to notice the wolf at their door. My wolf tattoo burns on my forearm as if reminding me who I am.

“You’re sure she’s here?” I whisper into my earpiece.

Livia would’ve been my eyes in this situation, but Marco fills the role tonight. His voice crackles back through the comms. “She’s here. Basement. Five guards outside, maybe more inside. You’re walking into a hornet’s nest.”

“Good,” I mutter. “I’m in the mood for a fight.”

I scale the wall like it’s second nature and slip through a broken window into chaos. The first guard doesn’t even see me coming. He’s on the ground with my knife buried deep in his chest before he can sound the alarm. I’ve crossed lines before, but tonight feels different. Every move is calculated, every kill personal.

They took her. That’s all the justification I need.

The rest fall like dominoes. A gunshot here, a broken neck there. I move like a shadow—swift and silent—until I’m standingin the basement doorway. My heart pounds as I push it open, the hinges creaking in protest. And then there she is. Daniela.

She’s tied to a chair, her face bruised, her lip split. But her eyes—those fiery, stubborn eyes—snap to mine the second I step inside. Relief washes over her face, though it’s quickly replaced by anger.

“Took you long enough,” she mutters.

I let out a harsh laugh as I crouch to untie her. “You’re welcome.”

Before I can finish, a voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Not so fast.”

Leone. He steps out of the shadows with a gun trained on me and a smirk plastered on his smug face. “This is touching, really. But you’re too late, Remo.”

My jaw tightens. “Let her go.”

“Or what?” He gestures toward a monitor displaying a video feed of a ledger—the same one I’ve spent years keeping hidden. “I’ve got everything I need to bring you and your precious mafia empire down. One word from me, and it’s over.”

Daniela’s voice is sharp when she snaps, “You’re bluffing.”

Leone chuckles. “Am I? Do you really want to find out?”

I glance at Daniela, her defiance sparking something in me that I can’t name. Leone doesn’t see it coming when I lunge, but the pain from his bullet sears through my shoulder as I tackle him to the ground. We’re a flurry of fists and fury, and his smirk turns to panic as I gain the upper hand. With a menacing grin, I grab the bloody shirt from his chest and shove it into his mouth before pulling the trigger three times.

The echo of gunfire is deafening. But I continue shooting.

Suddenly, Daniela’s voice breaks through the haze. “Remo, stop!”

Her hands are on me, pulling me away from Leone’s lifeless body. My breathing is ragged, my knuckles raw, but her touch anchors me. She’s trembling, but her grip is firm.

“Let’s go,” she says. “Please.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I lead her out of the carnage. She collapses in the car with her head resting against the window. I glance at her through the rearview mirror, my chest tightening at the sight of her pale face. The ledger sits on the seat beside her, a cruel reminder of everything I’ve sacrificed to get here.

But as I drive into the night, one thought consumes me. Daniela is alive. She’s here, breathing, and that’s all that matters. Let the world burn if it has to.

She’s my world now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her in it.

Chapter 25

Daniela

I wake up to the smell of coffee and something faintly charred, like burnt toast. The kitchen light is dim, the curtains half-drawn. Remo stands by the counter, his broad shoulders hunched as he fiddles with the coffee machine. His movements are stiff and deliberate. Like he’s forcing his body to cooperate. He’s still healing, but he refuses to act like it.

“You know that thing has an auto-brew feature, right?” My voice is rough from sleep.

He glances over his shoulder, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun? I thought you preferred things done efficiently.” I sit up, my muscles aching in protest. It’s not just my body that’s tired; it’s my soul. Every part of me feels like it’s been dragged through hell. And maybe it has.