ON HER 21ST BIRTHDAY, SHE WOKE IN THE MAFIA BOSS’S BED—THEN HE SAID, “YOU’RE MY WIFE NOW”

The rain poured in dark sheets over the Brooklyn harbor. The air tasted of salt, rust, and oil.

Lia knelt in the damp darkness of the abandoned garage, her heart thumping against her ribs. She was wearing a black tactical jacket over a Kevlar vest, her dark hair pulled tightly into a braid. In her hand, she held a compact 9mm pistol—Dante had spent two hours teaching her basic safety and aiming in the mansion's underground shooting range before they left.

Beside her, Dante was a shadow in the night. He checked the suppressor on his automatic rifle, his movements calm, precise, and deadly. Behind them stood five of his elite enforcers.

"Tunnel is clear," Julian's voice crackled through Dante's earpiece. "I'm in position at the front gate. On your mark, boss."

Dante looked at Lia. He reached out, taking her chin gently in his gloved hand. "Remember the plan. You walk into the secondary office yard. You keep Antonio talking for thirty seconds. Do not reach for your gun unless I give the word. Understand?"

"Thirty seconds," Lia repeated, her throat dry. "I can do that."

Dante leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to hers—a hot, fierce kiss that burned through the freezing cold of the rain. "I won't let him touch you, Lia. I promise."

"Mark," Dante said into his comms.

A second later, a massive explosion rocked the front gates of the Moretti shipping yard half a mile away. Alarms screamed through the night, accompanied by the rapid chatter of gunfire. Julian had launched his distraction.

"Go," Dante ordered.

Lia took a deep breath, stepped through the rusted metal hatch of the tunnel, and emerged into the rain-slicked courtyard of the Moretti warehouse.

Two guards immediately spotted her through the downpour, bringing their rifles up.

"Don't shoot!" Lia cried out, holding her hands high in the air, her body trembling believably. "I came alone! I want to talk to Antonio!"

The guards exchanged surprised looks. One of them barked into his radio. A moment later, the steel door of the main office slid open, and Antonio Moretti stepped out, wearing a long trench coat, a umbrella held over his head by a subordinate.

A cruel, victorious smile spread across Antonio's face as he saw her standing under the spotlight in the courtyard.

"Well, well," Antonio sneered, walking down the metal stairs. "Lia Evans. Or should I say Mrs. Romano? Did your big bad husband send you to beg for mercy?"

"Dante doesn't know I'm here," Lia lied, taking a slow step forward to keep his attention locked on her. "You threatened my friends, Antonio. Dante doesn't care about them—he thinks they're acceptable losses. But I don't."

Antonio chuckled, a wet, unpleasant sound. "Smart girl. You realized you married a monster. Come here. Give yourself up, and maybe I'll let your little diner friends live."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Lia asked, her eyes darting subtly toward the shadow of a shipping container twenty feet behind Antonio.

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart," Antonio laughed, stepping closer and reaching out to grab her wrist. "You're just a diner girl who got caught in a game for kings."

"Ten seconds," Lia whispered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Antonio frowned, pausing.

Lia looked up, her panicked expression instantly vanishing, replaced by a cold, deadly smile that mirrored Dante's.

"I said," Lia stated clearly, "you shouldn't have looked away from the shadows."

Before Antonio could react, shadow burst into motion.

Dante emerged from behind the container like a ghost. With terrifying speed, he grabbed Antonio's arm, twisting it back until a sickening crack echoed through the yard. Antonio screamed, dropping to his knees as Dante wrapped an arm around his throat, drawing a tactical blade and pressing it directly against Antonio's carotid artery.

Simultaneously, Dante's enforcers swarmed the yard, taking down the remaining Moretti guards with silenced shots before they could raise their weapons.

In less than fifteen seconds, the yard was secured.

Antonio gasped for air, blood trickling down his neck where Dante's knife grazed his skin. "Dante... wait... the Council... you can't..."

"The Council isn't here, Antonio," Dante growled, his voice a low, terrifying purr against the back of Antonio's ear. "You threatened my wife. You threatened her past. You broke the fundamental rule of our world."

"Please!" Antonio choked out, his arrogance completely shattered.

Dante looked up at Lia. Rain dripped down her face, plastering her hair to her cheeks. She was standing tall, holding the 9mm pistol trained directly on Antonio's forehead. Her hands were completely steady.

"What should we do with him, wife?" Dante asked, his eyes burning with dark devotion. He was offering her the final judgment—giving her back the power that had been stolen from her on her birthday.

Lia stared at Antonio—the man who had viewed her as property, a piece of meat to be traded and terrorized. She looked at Dante—the man who had taken her into his cage, but had given her a blade to protect herself.

"He threatened innocent people," Lia said, her voice carrying clearly over the sound of the rain. "End it. So no one ever thinks about touching us again."