I should shower, clean up before she wakes. But I don’t move.

Because standing here, in the doorway of the only thing in my life that doesn’t reek of death and betrayal, I feel it again, the pull.

The war out there is real. But the war inside me? It’s her.

When I stepped into the shower, the water ran red before it turned clear.

Even now, fresh clothes on, hands clean, hair damp, I can still smell him. Still feel the way the blade dragged through cartilage. The way truth spilled out only when there was nothing left to hold it in.

I take the steps down two at a time.

The sun hasn’t broken over the hills yet, but Dante’s already in the kitchen, elbows on the table, black coffee in one hand, gun within reach of the other.

He glances up when I enter, eyes scanning me like he’s checking for more than blood.

“You didn’t sleep.”

“Nah, didn’t deserve to.”

I pull out the chair across from him and drop into it, forearms resting on the edge of the table. Dante waits. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t push. So, I give him the truth.

"Adriano was the leak. Gate rotations. Code access. He’s been feeding someone updates through a burner; thirty grand hit his brother’s account last month. Leo confirmed it.”

Dante’s face tightens. He doesn’t ask the obvious because he already knows the answer. “That fuck.” And then, softly, dangerously, he adds, “You put him down?”

“Slow.”

Dante exhales through his nose and takes a long sip of coffee.

“That’s one. There’ll be more.”

“Yeah. There’s more.”

I reach into my coat and slide the burner phone across the table. He looks down at the screen. Still open...still glowing.

Package confirmed. Gate access cleared.

He stares at it for a beat too long. When he speaks, his voice is steel.

“Fuck.”

“This isn’t about territory anymore,” I say, voice like gravel. “It’s not about business. Or revenge. He’s crossed into something else.” I pause, clenching and unclenching my fist on top of the table. “He doesn’t want her dead. He wants her branded . Owned . He’s fixated on her.”

Dante leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Nicolai.”

I nod again. “And someone close is still working with him. Someone closer than staff. Possibly blood.”

Luciano’s name doesn’t leave my mouth, but it hangs there...weighty.

“I should’ve gutted him the moment he called that dinner.”

“You still might have to,” Dante mutters.

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full of everything we can’t afford to say out loud. The credence of it presses against my spine, bruising muscle and bone.

“She’s not safe here,” I say finally. “Not at the manor. Not here. Not with eyes still inside our walls.”

“You want to move her?”

“I want her somewhere no one can reach. Not Luciano, not Enzo, not even Bianca. At least until I can figure out who I can trust.”

Dante nods slowly. His eyes are harder now.

“You’re going to burn bridges if you do that.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I hope they fucking drown in the flames.” Another pause. Then his voice goes quieter, like something dangerous settling into place.

“All right, what’s the play?” I look at him, cold and calm and certain.

“We move her. We close ranks. We find the others. And then...” I lean forward, my tone dropping to the razor’s edge. “...we go hunting. And the first name on my list is... Luca Moretti .”

Finding and capturing Luca Moretti took all of twenty minutes.

Pathetic, really.

A boy who wears his father’s name like a crown and thinks it makes him untouchable. But names don’t matter in the dark, not when you’re caught alone, no backup, no warning. Just silence… and the wrong fucking enemy.

Luca was too busy showing off outside a club in Catania to notice the car parked across the street. Too distracted by a girl wrapped around his arm to catch the man in the alley watching his every move.

The warehouse is silent, thick with the kind of stillness that settles right before a storm cracks open the sky.

Dante stands beside me, arms crossed, back to the steel support beam. Shadows stretch across the concrete floor, slicing through the dim light of the hanging bulb above Luca’s slumped form.

He hasn’t woken up yet. But he will. And when he does, the first face he sees will be mine.

Dante exhales, low and even. “You sure you want to do this now? We can make use of the boy. Use him to draw out Nicolai.”

My eyes stay fixed on the boy chained from the ceiling, arms suspended, feet dragging the floor just enough to make each breath a punishment. His jacket’s been stripped, his shirt clings to sweat, blood crusting along his temple where Dante introduced him to the barrel of his Glock.

I don’t answer right away, just watch the blood slowly drip down the side of his face.

“His fate was sealed the moment he put that pill her hand. He thought he got away with it. Ha pensato di poter sfuggire, ma il Mietitore riscuote sempre.” He thought he could escape, but the Reaper always collects.

Dante shifts slightly, rubbing a thumb along his jaw. “You think this’ll be enough to rattle Nicolai?”

I stare at Luca’s limp form.

“He touched what’s mine. He needs to know there’s no coming back from that.”

Dante’s voice lowers. “And what about Luciano?”

“What about him?”

“You keep making moves like this…” He pauses. “He won’t be able to hide behind diplomacy much longer.”

I glance sideways at him. “Good.”

Another moment passes and Dante speaks again, softer this time.

“She’s changed you.”

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Because he’s right. And that’s exactly why they’re all going to bleed.

Dante doesn’t argue. Just shifts his weight and mutters under his breath, “He won’t survive the night.”

“He’s not meant to.”

The sound of chains rattling echoes in the warehouse as Luca starts to stir.

It starts with a groan, groggy and thin, and then a sharp jerk as the pain registers. He blinks, squints against the light, limbs twitching like a puppet on broken strings.

Panic finds him slowly, crawling over his expression in stages. Confusion. Awareness and my favourite... fear .

And then, finally, me.

Our eyes lock and he freezes. Recognition widens his gaze, and he recoils instinctively, making the chains bite into his wrists with a metallic rattle.

“What the f—” he chokes out, voice raw. “Cazzo.” He breathes. “Ares? What the fuck is this? Why, why am I—?” His voice cracks, desperation cutting through the bravado he’s trying to summon.

“You look surprised,” I say calmly, stepping forward until I’m close enough to see the tremble in his jaw. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?”

“I—” he shakes his head, frantic. “I haven’t done anything!”

“No?” I ask. “Because I seem to recall you walking into my club and passing around laced drugs...to one girl in particular.”

Luca’s eyes veer across the room in a panic, before the come back to me. “I didn’t. I swear to God, I didn’t know she was a Russo. I thought she was just some girl, man. Just, just some girl at a party. I didn’t know she was under your protection.”

I crouch in front of him, slow, deliberate.

“Luca,” I say softly, almost like we’re old friends. “You know what really pisses me off?” He doesn’t answer. He just stares, chest heaving, blood trailing from the cut on his temple.

“Being lied to,” I whisper. “That twitchy little voice you tried to use earlier? The stammer? Cute. But you’re not stupid, are you?”

I reach into my coat. “And that pill you gave her…” I pull out the bottle, white label, half full, and hold it between two fingers like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

“You didn’t pick her by accident.” My voice drops lower. “That wasn’t just some party favour, was it?”

Luca shakes his head. Whispers, “I swear, I didn’t know?—”

I smirk, slow and cold.

“Sure you didn’t. Just a random girl, right?” I lean in, real close. “Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong fucking man watching over her.”

I let the grin drop.

“You think I don’t know she was targeted that night? That someone made sure she was alone?” I tilt my head. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

I rise to my feet, stare down at him like the floor isn’t the only thing about to break.

“This little bottle?” I flick it toward his feet. “It’s not the only reason you’re going to suffer.” I step closer, boots echoing on concrete. “No, Luca… this is personal.” My voice sharpens to a whisper. “Your hurt what’s mine.”

I close the distance, crouching to meet him eye level.

“But that wasn’t the end of it, was it?”

“You poisoned her and walked away. Left her convulsing on the bathroom floor like she was nothing. That alone earned you suffering.”

I rise to my full height, the weight of my shadow swallowing the space between us. “But then your father crossed a line even hell won’t forgive; he reached for what’s mine and sealed your fate in the process.”

Luca’s eyes widen, panic blooming now like a heartbeat in his throat.

“What? No. I didn’t know!” he blurts. “I didn’t know he was gonna, fuck, Ares, please, I didn’t know! I swear to you, I didn’t know!”

“I’m not here for what you knew and quite frankly I don’t give a fuck.” My voice is calm and flat. I don’t need to shout. It’s not my style. Only people who can’t control their emotions shout. “I’m here for what you did. And what you represent.”

I glance at Dante, who steps forward like a ghost.

“She’s not just some girl. She’s mine . And you—” I gesture toward the chains. “you’re going to bleed for your father forgetting that.”

“No,” Luca gasps, his brows eyes brimming with tears. “Please, please?—”

But I’ve already turned away, rolling my sleeve, jaw set like granite.

“Start with the eyes,” I tell Dante. “He doesn’t need them where he’s going.”

Dante doesn’t flinch, only nods once, like I asked him to pass the salt.

He moves to the table behind us, where the tools are laid out, clean, orderly, surgical. He doesn’t reach for the blade first. No, he picks the one that whispers instead of screams, a slim hook knife, curved just enough to slide under the soft parts without breaking the bone.

Luca sees it. And that’s when the panic sets in.

“No, no, wait, please, Ares?—”

I stay still. Let him talk. Let the begging spill out like blood before the wound even opens.

“I swear to God, I didn’t know she was yours, I didn’t know who she was, I thought she was some random girl, I didn’t know, please, please, don’t do this?—”

I crouch again, tilt my head. “Your first mistake was thinking.”

His breath hitches. “Please, Ares , I’ll do anything you want. Please, I’m begging you.”

“There isn’t anything you have that I want, Luca.” My voice is low now. Calm. Final. “And now you’re going to feel what it’s like to be nothing.”

Dante steps beside him, slipping on gloves like he’s prepping for a procedure.

Luca thrashes hard, the chains clanging so loud it echoes off the warehouse walls.

“Don’t, don’t touch me, Ares, I’m begging you?—!”

But I don’t blink. “Beg louder. Maybe God’s listening. I’m not.”

I nod again and Dante steps forward.

The screaming that follows isn’t human. It’s something ripped from the lungs of someone who thought pain was a myth until now. Until nerves were peeled back like petals. Until sight, his last claim to freedom, was taken from him with the sound of wet steel and silence.

I don’t look away...not once. Because this isn’t vengeance.

It’s a warning dressed in flesh.

And Nicolai? He’ll read it loud and fucking clear

Luca’s body jerks. The chain creaks violently above him as he thrashes, mouth opening in a silent scream before the sound finally rips out of him, hoarse and broken.

“I told you death was too easy,” I say, pacing slow and deliberate. “This is retribution.”

Blood runs down his cheeks like tears. Dante is methodical, precise. He knows the anatomy of suffering like a second language.

The eye comes loose, wet and red, dropped into a glass jar with a slick thud.

“Your father took something from me,” I say. “Now I take something from him.”

It goes on.

Minutes stretch into eternities.

His sobs become choked whimpers. He starts convulsing. I toss a nod to Dante, enough.

We want him alive.

Bruised, half blind, but alive.

“Taglia le mani,” I say. Cut off his hands.

Dante hesitates. “Ares?—”

“Just the fingers.”

More screams...more blood. By the time we’re done, Luca hangs limp, barely conscious, a mess of red and ruin.

I walk up to him one last time and grip his jaw, forcing his head up. “You’re going to deliver a message to your father.”

His one remaining eye tries to focus on me.

“You tell Nicolai... I’m coming.” I gesture to Dante. “Bag him. Drop him outside Cerbero.”

He’ll wake up dumped on the concrete like discarded meat. No guards. No protection. Just a barely living warning.

Let Nicolai see what happens when you come for what’s mine.

Let Sicily know the Reaper doesn’t bluff.

He collects. Every time.