Chapter 3

Siena POV

“Donna Siena.”

A towering Enforcer named Luca stepped out of the crowd and bowed his head to me. It was an instinctual show of respect, a habit forged from years of taking my orders.

Valentina gasped.

She buried her face in Julian’s shoulder, her frame shaking as if she had just been struck.

“Julian, why is he calling her that?” she whimpered.

She looked up, tears pooling in her wide, innocent eyes.

“I thought she was removed. She endangered the Famiglia. Why are your men still disrespecting me?”

A weight like a block of masonry settled in my chest, forcing the air from my lungs.

I glanced at Luca. The man stood frozen, the realization of his mistake dawning in his eyes.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between myself and the girl playing dress-up in my place.

“Endangered?”

My voice was quiet, yet it carried through the silent hallway.

“The gold pendant you’re wearing was melted down from the teeth of three south-side dealers. You stand in a fortress I designed.” I tilted my head. “You are a cheap replica playing a dangerous game, little girl.”

Valentina let out a pathetic sob and shrank behind Julian.

Julian stepped forward, his massive frame shielding his mistress. His dark eyes bore into mine, issuing a silent warning to back down.

“That is enough, Siena.”

He used his authoritative Don voice—the cold, gravelly tone that made Capos tremble.

“You have contributed to this Famiglia. I am willing to host a formal farewell banquet to acknowledge your past.” He lifted his chin. “Do not ruin this with jealousy.”

I stared at the man I had loved for a decade.

“If I had known the throne beside you could be bought with cheap tears, I would never have taken bullets for your position.”

I did not wait for his response. I turned my back on the Boss of the city and walked away.

Pushing through the heavy glass doors, I stepped out into the street.

A cold rain was falling, soaking through my coat.

The icy drops hit my face, dragging me back to the night my loyalty shattered.

The turf war. The abandoned warehouse. The bullet in my thigh. I had called Julian for backup. Valentina answered: “He’s sleeping. Don’t bother him with your gang drama.” Then she hung up.

I dragged myself through three blocks of hostile territory, nearly bled out on a clinic table. I endured unanesthetized suturing just to stay alive.

When I confronted Julian the next morning, stitches tearing, he didn’t apologize. He sighed. “You survived. Drop it.” Then he threatened to expose the bodies I buried for him if I ever made a scene.

I stopped walking. The rain poured over me, but I no longer felt cold.

I pulled out my encrypted phone and typed a single command—activating a dead man’s switch I had coded years ago, back when I still believed he would never betray me.

If Julian wanted a scene, I thought, watching the confirmation light blink green, I would give him one that made the whole underworld stop breathing.

The sound of footsteps splashing in the puddles jerked me back.

Luca, the loyal Enforcer, was jogging toward me, holding a large black umbrella.

“The Boss ordered me to escort you to your car,” he said, his voice tight.

I looked at the umbrella, and then past him, up at the towering fortress I had helped build.

“Tell the Don I prefer the rain.”

I didn’t add that this rain was only the prelude—that by this time tomorrow, the entire underworld would be drowning in a flood of my making.

I walked away without looking back.