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The boss didn't blink. He reached out, his ink-stained fingers brushing the loose strands of hair away from my forehead, his touch terrifyingly gentle yet completely immovable. "A ghost doesn't know her own reflection, maybe," he murmured, his breath hot against my temple. "Look at the corner of your left eye. The faint crescent scar. My wife got it falling off a horse in Sicily when she was twelve. You have it, too. Down to the millimeter." / Chapter 24 / 39

Chapter 25 - The Counter-StrikeJulian stood there, trembling with rage, trying to regain his aristocratic composure as red wine dripped down the front of his designer suit. "You are making a catastrophic mistake, Moretti! The High Council will declare total war on your entire bloodline! You won't survive a week!"

Dante slowly stood up from his chair, towering over the senator like a dark, vengeful god. The dragon tattoo on his hand coiled menacingly under the chandelier light.

"War?" Dante murmured, stepping closer until he was mere inches from Julian’s face. "Your brother tried to declare war on this exact floor. Do you know where he is right now, Julian? He's feeding the fish at the bottom of the harbor."

Julian swallowed hard, the color entirely draining from his face.

"You came into my house, insulted my family, and tried to barter my wife like a piece of property," Dante continued, his voice dropping to a terrifying, lethal whisper. "You thought we were just street-level mobsters you could manipulate with treaties. Let me make something crystal clear."

Dante grabbed Julian by the lapel of his ruined white shirt, hauling him up onto his toes.

"Tell the High Council that the Moretti family doesn't negotiate with snakes. And tell them if any member of the Vance family ever sets foot in this city again, I won't just kill them—I'll burn your entire Geneva estate to ash."

Dante shoved Julian back hard, sending him stumbling into the arms of his terrified bodyguards.

"Marco," Dante ordered coldly. "Escort our guests off the property. And make sure they walk all the way to the outer gates in the rain."

As Marco and the guards marched Julian and his men out of the dining hall at gunpoint, the heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind them, plunging the room back into a heavy, victorious silence.

I let out a long, shaky breath, letting the adrenaline slowly recede from my veins. I looked down at my hands—they weren't shaking at all.

Dante walked over, pulling me gently against his chest, burying his face in my hair. "Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice laced with fierce protective worry.

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