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“You don’t belong there, either.”

Her voice echoes in my skull, soft and defiant, the way only she can be.

You don’t belong in the dark. She couldn’t be more wrong.

I was raised in it. Forged by it. There’s no light left in me, just fury and instinct and blood.

And right now, I can taste that blood again. Not from a fight. Not from a kill.

But from what’s coming.

The taste always shows up before the fall. The taste hits me before the thought does. Metallic and sharp.

Blood in the air.

It’s not real, not yet, but I’ve learned to trust it. That phantom taste, the prickling at the back of my neck, the pressure behind my eyes like something is about to snap.

Something’s coming. I just don’t know from which direction it’ll hit first, Nicolai… or my own fucking blood.

I pace the living room slowly, lift the burning cigarette and take a long pull, boots echoing off the marble floor in tight, measured strides. The curtains are drawn. The lights low. The whole house feels like it’s holding its breath.

Dante sits slouched on the couch, watching me like he’s waiting for a bomb to go off.

“You’re making me dizzy, man,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Then leave,” I snap, too fast. He lifts his brows but doesn’t move. Doesn’t argue either.

I press my palms to the back of the leather couch, trying to breathe through it. Trying to fight the urge to break something just to bleed the tension out.

White roses.

An unknown tail in town.

Luciano playing chess while I burn for her.

I stare at the wall, but all I see is Jordyn, that flash of fear in her eyes when she saw me with the gun, the way her hands shook when she thought I didn’t notice. She’s not built for this world. But she’s in it now.

Because of me.

“We need to move her,” I say aloud, voice low, more to myself than Dante.

“Where?” he asks. “Do you think she will leave. Especially without Bianca.”

“No, she won’t.” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Then we find a way to keep eyes on her. Double the guards, rotate them so she doesn’t notice. Anyone steps too close, I want them in the ground before they take a second breath.”

“And Nicolai?”

My spine stiffens.

“If he wants to play games…” I grab my jacket, sliding it on in one smooth motion. “I’ll play along. I send him another message, one that’s louder.”

Dante watches me, serious now. “Where are you going?”

“To have a little chat with the Don.” I utter darkly, already halfway to the front door.

I walk through the front doors of the Russo manor like a quiet fucking storm.

No greetings. No glances.

Just the thud of my boots against marble and the thunder in my blood.

I know where I’m going. I know who I’m here for.

And if anyone tries to get in my way, I’ll move through them like smoke and ash.

Enzo spots me first from across the hall. He’s halfway down the grand staircase, fresh from whatever polished meeting he’s played puppet for this time. But when his eyes lock to mine, the easy charm on his face vanishes.

Because he knows that look. That grim, hollow calm that comes just before I make someone bleed.

Enzo cuts his conversation short the moment he sees me. Steps off the staircase and falls in beside me without missing a beat.

“Where is he?” I mutter, eyes locked forward.

“Library. Reviewing shipment records from Naples.”

I nod once. No thanks. No pause. Just purpose.

He watches me carefully. “Should I be worried?”

“That depends,” I murmur, voice flat. “You know anything about Luciano having someone tail Jordyn?”

Enzo slows. “Tailing her?”

“You heard me.”

“No. Why the fuck would I?”

“Because if I find out you knew and said nothing... we’ll have a different problem to deal with.”

His expression hardens. “You really think I’d stand by while someone stalks her? That’s my wife little sister, Ares.”

“I don’t know what you’d do anymore, fratello,” I say, the word colder than it should be. “You’ve always been good at keeping your hands clean.”

That lands. I see it in the twitch of his jaw, the flare in his nostrils.

“I didn’t know,” he says, measured. “But if it was him, I’ve got your back.”

I nod once. “Then keep up.”

The air thickens as I reach the library doors.

Luciano’s voice drifts through the heavy oak, calm and calculated as always.

Numbers. Shipments. Logistics. The doors to Luciano’s office slam open beneath my fist, rattling on their hinges.

He doesn’t even look up. Just sits there behind that desk like a king on his throne, calm, calculating, and already ten steps ahead.

“Figlio,” he says, tone neutral. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Enzo walks after me and he shuts the door behind me, the click of the latch echoing like a gunshot.

I cross the room without invitation, without apology.

“You put a fucking man on me,” I say, voice low and lethal.

Luciano finally lifts his eyes to mine. “I did.”

Just like that. No denial. No lies.

“Sei un fottuto bastardo arrogante— I slam both hands on his desk. “You sent someone after me. After her. Do you know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t caught him? If he pulled on me in front of Jordyn?—

“I knew you’d catch him,” he cuts in, voice like stone. “You always do.”

“You don’t get to gamble with her life.”

He rises slowly from his chair, straightening his suit with one flick of his wrist. “You think this is about her? No. This is about you. About what you’ve become.”

A dangerous stillness coils in my chest.

Luciano steps closer. “You think we’re all blind, figlio? That we don’t know what’s going on between you and the girl?” His voice sharpens. “You sneak her out of the house. Take her to your mother’s vineyard. Walk around like she belongs to you.”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone,” I snap.

“Oh, but she does. To all of them now. Nicolai. The Mancini’s. Anyone who sees the way you look at her. You forget, Ares… I’m the one who made you.”

That lands like a punch to the ribs.

“I trained the weapon you’ve become. I pulled you out of your mother's blood and forced you to survive. You were a rabid dog once. I gave you a leash. And now you’re ready to tear it off for some silly girl.”

My jaw clenches so hard I’m sure I feel my molars crack.

Luciano circles me like a predator. “You're smart. Lethal. But not invincible. Not when you’re in love. That’s the crack in your armour, Ares. And every man we do business with sees it. Word is already spreading. You’ve become soft .”

“You’re twisting this.”

“I’m protecting you. The only way I know how.”

He stops beside me, lowering his voice like he’s offering a gift, not a threat.

“You want to keep her alive? Marry Giana. Seal the alliance. End the war before it starts. Otherwise… when the vultures come, and believe me they will, I won’t stop them.”

I turn to face him, eyes burning. “You’d sacrifice her.”

“I’d sacrifice anything to keep this family standing.”

The silence afterward is suffocating.

“You’re a vile bastard,” I whisper.

Luciano exhales through his nose, not a laugh, but close. “No, ragazzo mio . I’m what you become when you stop pretending you can be anything else.”

The words dig under my skin, festering.

My fists curl so tight my knuckles crack. I don’t move. Not yet. The air between us thickens, with history, with blood, with the unsaid things I’ve swallowed for years.

I raise my eyes to his.

“Threaten her again,” I murmur, voice low and deadly, “and I won’t just destroy your empire. I’ll drag you to the gates of hell and leave you screaming at the feet of your enemies.” Luciano’s smile fades. He studies me now, not like a man assessing his son, but a threat. A rival.

“You forget who you’re talking to, figlio.”

“No.” I step in, close enough to feel his breath. “I know exactly who I’m talking to. The man who put a gun in my hand when I was nine. The man who watched me snap a boy’s neck at twelve and said nothing because it was useful.”

He doesn’t blink.

I lean closer. “You want me to be your monster, papa ? Fine. But monsters don’t follow orders. And if you so much as whisper the first letter of her name… I’ll remind you who you really made.”

Luciano’s eyes narrow. “This is what you’ve become. You’d go to war over a girl?”

“The war has already begun, old man.” My voice drops, quiet and brutal. “Not only would I go to war. I would burn this fucking island to ash for her.”

The silence between us feels like a live wire. One spark and everything ignites.

Then he chuckles, slow and cold. “Guarda cosa sei diventato... un uomo patetico. Look at what she’s reduced you to. You think you’ll win, Ares? That you can walk out of here, toss your legacy into the sea and live happily ever after with your little girl? That’s not how this ends, and you know it.”

“I know,” I murmur, stepping back, straightening. “But it’s how you end. Touch her again, sanguinerai per primo.” You’ll bleed first.

Luciano’s eyes flare. For the first time, I see it, not fear, but awareness. That I’m no longer the boy he raised. I’m the weapon he can’t control.

I turn and walk out, this time on my own terms. Enzo stays behind, likely to do damage control.

But in my mind, I’m already calculating the fallout.

Because now I know the truth.

Luciano doesn’t give a shit who dies.

As long as it isn’t him.

The door slams behind me, the echo cracking through the hallway like a gunshot.

My hands are shaking. Fury pulses beneath my skin, hot and venomous, blurring the edges of my vision. I don’t feel the burn in my shoulder, don’t hear the distant sound of voices in the dining room. Just the pounding in my head. Just his voice, still echoing.

I’m the one who made you.

I storm down the corridor, every step thunder, every breath a growl in my chest.

“Ares?” Her voice. Soft. Hesitant. Fucking beautiful.

I see her too late.

She’s standing near the alcove, a book clutched to her chest, eyes wide as they meet mine. I don’t stop. Don’t slow. I brush past her like she isn’t even real, like the hallway’s empty.

I can’t see her right now. Can’t feel her.

Because if I do...I’ll break. Her scent follows me like a curse. Sweet and warm and laced with something that undoes every wall I’ve ever built.

But I keep going.

Because the only thing more dangerous than Luciano’s threats…

…is what I’d do to keep them from touching her.

The heavy doors creak open and slam shut behind me.

Outside, the wind cuts sharp through the stone courtyard, but I barely feel it. I need air. Space. Something that doesn’t smell like betrayal and control. My temples are throbbing so hard it hurts. My vision tunnels, red at the edges.

Then I hear her.

“Ares, wait.”

Bianca’s voice slices through the fog. Fucking hell.

I stop. Not because I want to. Because I have to. Because even rage can’t erase the weight in her tone.

I turn slowly, chest heaving. She’s already walking toward me, arms folded, brows drawn tight like she’s holding something in.

“What?” I snap, harsher than I mean to. My voice is still soaked in venom from Luciano’s office.

She flinches but doesn’t back down. Typical. “I want to talk to you.”

I exhale hard through my nose. “If this is about Cavallo Nero or the next fucking dinner, I’m not in the mood?—

“It’s about Jordyn.”

Her name knocks the air out of me.

It lands in the middle of my storm like a match on dry kindling. My spine stiffens. My breath turns shallow.

“You care about her,” Bianca says. Not a question.

A statement. “I see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. How tense you get when she’s in the room or her name is mentioned.

I know there’s something going on between you.

She keeps denying it, but I know my sister and I can see it. ”

I don’t speak.

Because what the fuck am I supposed to say? That she’s wrong? That Jordyn means nothing to me? That I don’t taste her every time I breathe?

Bianca waits, arms folded, eyes sharp. She knows. She always fucking knows.

“I’m not asking for details,” she says finally, quieter now. “But I need you to hear this: she’s not ready for someone like you.”

I grit my teeth. “You think I don’t know that?”

“She’s fragile.”

“She’s stronger than you think.”

“She’s grieving, Ares.” Bianca steps in, close enough for her words to cut. “She’s just a girl trying to survive in a world she was never meant to be part of. And you...you're the darkest thing in it.”

My fists curl at my sides.

“Whatever’s happening between you two, end it. Before it destroys her. It’s already staring to pull her under.”

Something splits in my chest. A quiet, invisible tear that feels like bone breaking.

“You really think I want this?” I say, my voice rough with something I won’t name. “You think I chose her?”

“No,” Bianca says softly. “But you’ll ruin her just the same.”

That right there lands harder than it should.

I glance away, jaw set, trying to breathe past the pressure in my throat.

“I’m begging you,” she adds. “If there’s even a shred of decency left in you… walk away from her. Marry Giana and forget about my sister.”

Her words strike somewhere deeper than bone.

“I don’t want to lose my sister, Ares. Please, I’m begging you. I would rather she have her heart broken than watch her get dragged into something dangerous. Don’t make her a pawn in whatever war you’re in with your father.”

I stare at her, silent, the weight of every unspoken truth pressing against my ribs like knives.

She doesn’t know.

She has no idea that Jordyn’s already in it. That she’s the centre of the war I’ve been trying to stop. That every choice I make now starts and ends with her name carved into my skin.

“I’d never use her like that,” I say quietly. “She’s not a pawn. She’s the only thing that’s real.”

Bianca’s lips tremble slightly, but she holds my gaze. “Then prove it. Let her go.”

My throat tightens.

I nod, once. Not because I mean it, but because I have to. Because it’s the only thing she’ll accept.

And maybe… maybe it’s the only way to keep Jordyn breathing.

Bianca steps back, slowly. Her eyes linger on me like she’s trying to memorise the man she’s pleading with...before he turns into the monster everyone warns her about.

She disappears inside.

And I stand there, alone, swallowed by silence and stone.

Let her go? I already tried. But some things, some people, don’t loosen their grip.

They bury themselves so deep, you forget where you end and they begin.

And Jordyn? She’s already under my skin. And I don’t think I want her out.

The second she’s gone, I nearly collapse against the wall, my breath ragged and uneven.

Letting her go?

No one understands.

That would kill me faster than any bullet.