Page 3 of The Silent War

Because empire meant nothing if she wasn’t in it.

I set the glass down hard enough to crack it.

The phone still glowed on the counter. One swipe away from her feed and the life she lived without us.

Luca didn’t move, but his eyes stayed on it. Same as mine. We didn’t need to say her name. We never did. It lived in both of us like a second pulse.

The only war that ever mattered.

Every fight, every bullet—we weren’t bleeding for the city or for power.

We were bleeding for her.

Chapter Two

BASTION

Vince had stepped back.

Maddy was his reason, but it hadn’t mattered why. After everything he’d carried for us, every bone he’d broken so we didn’t have to, none of us had the right to argue. And we all knew if he hadn’t stood down, we could’ve lost him completely.

Nikolai was gone too. Dynasty meetings overseas. Contracts. Legacy chess with no return date circled. He’d taken the position none of us had the patience for. Not even Luca.

Which left us.

Me. Luca. Rome.

Three brothers standing between Villain and the chaos waiting to reclaim it.

The war room wasn’t dynasty polish. Just steel, obsidian, and glass.

The table glowed from beneath, maps lit like veins across Villain. Red for ports and tunnels. White for clubs. Blue for casinos. The city pulsing in digital light.

Screens flickered along the wall. Docks. Tunnels. Casinos and streets. The city breathing on camera. And at the far side, floor-to-ceiling glass. Villain stretched wide.

Rome leaned against the table, still bloody from the underground gun run he’d pulled through Southbridge.

Luca stood across from him, one hand braced on the table, the other marking maps, dividing the workload.

And me?

I stayed standing. Couldn’t sit for this.

Because it wasn’t just power anymore. It was inheritance. And legacy didn’t care if you were tired.

Dynasty power wasn’t given. It was always watched. Especially in our bloodline. If Villain slowed for even one quarter, Damius wouldn’t blink. He’d restructure. Hand the city to another branch.

Ashwood.

Their books were clean, trades was fast. They didn’t have a city, but they were hungry for one. And Damius knew it.

So it was us.

The last line standing.

“Southbridge is secure?” Luca tapped the map.

Rome nodded. “Ran the escort shell through the Memormial Route tunnels. Drop was clean. No eyes. Weapons tagged and logged.”