Someone who has looked into the abyss of her own history and survived.
Someone who has chosen her own path forward.
Someone who, against all odds and reason, has found love in the most unlikely of places.
I reach for Nico’s hand, intertwining my fingers with his. Whatever comes next, whatever this new future holds, we will face it together—two broken people who somehow, impossibly, make each other whole.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NICO
Blood has a distinctive scent.Metallic. Primal. It cuts through the chemical smell of disinfectant here in the warehouse.
Dante Moretti’s body lies on a sheet of plastic on the concrete floor. The war is over. The debt for Marco is paid. I watch as my men efficiently wrap the body, their movements practiced and silent. There is no triumph in this moment, only the cold finality of a problem solved. I take the damp cloth Blake offers me and wipe my hands, removing the last traces of my rival from my skin.
“It’s done, sir,” Blake says, his voice a low tone in the echoing space. “The car is ready. Your uncle is expecting you.”
I nod, dropping the cloth into a disposal bin. My mind has already moved on. Twenty-four hours ago, I was preparing to walk into a trap. Now Moretti is dead. Isabel and Eunji Song are in federal custody. And Lea is waiting. Lea is mine, in a way I never expected.
“Is she settled?” I ask as we walk toward the warehouse exit, leaving the cleanup crew to their work.
“Yes, sir. I escorted her to the lake house. Double security perimeter, as instructed.” Something almost like amusement flickers in Blake’s eyes. “She asked if she was still a prisoner.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I don’t make those determinations, sir. That’s between you and her.”
Smart man. Blake will never be Marco, but he’s learning. “Her reaction?”
This time, Blake’s mouth definitely twitches. “She said she’d take that as a no, and that she expected you before midnight.” He pauses. “Sir.”
I check my watch. 9:17 PM. Time for one last conversation before I go home. “Alessandro first,” I say.
The wordhomefeels different now, loaded with new possibilities.
I slide into the waiting Bentley. As we pull away from the industrial grimness of the warehouse district, I watch the glittering towers of the city come into view. Tonight marks a new chapter. The king has eliminated his rivals. The last piece on the board has moved exactly where I want her. Now, I just need my uncle’s blessing.
Alessandro’s studyhasn’t changed in twenty years. The same leather chairs. The same bookshelves. The same crystaldecanters filled with amber liquids that cost more than most people make in a month. It’s old-world power, insulated from the modern chaos just beyond its walls.
My uncle stands at the window, his back to me as I enter. Even at sixty-eight, he maintains the posture of a much younger man.
“Nicolás,” he says without turning. He uses my full first name only in moments of gravity or disapproval. Tonight, I suspect it’s both.
“It’s done,” I tell him, moving to the bar cart to pour us both a measure of Macallan 25. “Moretti is dead. Isabel and Professor Song are in federal custody.”
“And the Korean pipeline?”
“Secured. I’ve already spoken with Mr. Kang. With Moretti gone and the professor neutralized, we control the distribution network from Vancouver to Chicago.”
Alessandro turns finally. His dark eyes study me. He accepts the crystal tumbler I offer him, raising it slightly.
“To victory,” he says.
“To balance,” I correct, clinking my glass against his. The ritual complete, I take my usual seat across from his desk. He remains standing, a subtle power play I recognize but choose to ignore.
“You’ve done well,” Alessandro concedes, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Better than I expected, given the... complications.”
We both know what he means by complications. Who he means.