Chapter 6 - A New DynastyThe gunshots started in the lower courtyard, muffled by thick stone walls and triple-paned reinforced glass, but the vibrations of the violence hummed through the floorboards of the suite.
"Stay in this room," Lorenzo commanded, turning back to look at me one last time before stepping out into the corridor. "Mateo will escort you to the hangar within ten minutes, no matter what happens out there."
"Declan—" I started, before catching myself. "Lorenzo. Don't die."
He paused, a dark, dangerous light flashing in his grey eyes. "I just spent six months waking up from the dead, Mia. I’m not planning on going back under anytime soon."
With that, he vanished into the smoke-filled hallway.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of chaos. Gunfire echoed through the air ducts, shouts bounced off the stone walls, and the heavy thrum of the medical helicopter’s rotors spun up on the roof pad above us.
Mateo burst into my suite, his face smeared with soot, holding an assault rifle in one hand. "Move! Now! The chopper is hot!"
He grabbed my arm, practically hauling me out of the room, past the smoking corridors where broken glass and spent shell casings littered the floor, straight toward the private elevator leading to the roof.
As the elevator doors slid open, I caught a glimpse of the courtyard below through a shattered arched window.
The Moretti enforcers were retreating in disarray, pinned down by heavy, disciplined fire from Romano’s loyal guards. And standing in the center of it all, reloading a smoking pistol with calm, terrifying precision, was Lorenzo.
He didn't look back as the elevator doors closed. But as we rose toward the roof, the image of him standing amidst the smoke burned itself into my mind.
Three months later.
The private clinic in Zurich was a palace of glass and light overlooking a pristine, snow-capped alpine lake.
Tommy was sitting up in a comfortable leather recliner, laughing as he watched a football game on a wall-mounted TV, his breathing steady and strong through a portable nasal cannula that was barely noticeable. The doctors said his lungs were healing faster than expected, thanks to the Swiss specialists and endless financial resources pumped into his recovery.
I sat by the window, turning a heavy silver key between my fingers.
The knock at the door was soft, measured.
The nurse opened it, stepping aside to reveal a tall man in a charcoal tailored suit.
Lorenzo Romano looked healthier, stronger, and entirely untouchable. The scar on his neck was the only remnant of the war that had nearly destroyed him.
He walked into the room, pausing to exchange a polite, quiet word with Tommy before stepping over to my side of the room.
"Your brother looks good," Lorenzo said quietly, his crystalline grey eyes fixed on me.
"He's breathing on his own for four hours a day now," I replied, my voice catching slightly in my throat. "The doctors say he might even be able to start college in the fall."
"Good," Lorenzo nodded. He reached into his coat pocket and placed a small, dark velvet box on the windowsill beside me.
"What's this?" I asked, looking up at him.
"The rest of your contract," Lorenzo said smoothly.
I opened the box. Inside rested a heavy, exquisite platinum ring encrusted with deep grey diamonds that mirrored the exact color of his eyes.
"I'm not a catering temp anymore, Lorenzo," I said, though my heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"No," Lorenzo agreed, a slow, possessive smile touching his lips as he extended his hand toward me, just as he had in the bedroom three months ago. "You're the woman who woke the wolf. And in my world, you keep what you break."
I looked at Tommy laughing at the TV, then down at the ring, and finally up into the eyes of the man who owned the mountains, the ports, and now, completely, my heart.
May you like
I placed my hand in his.
And as his fingers closed securely around mine, I knew the game of survival was over. A new dynasty had begun.
