The Devil Unleashed, the Angel in Danger
The Valdez stronghold burned. Smoke curled into the night sky, the crackle of fire mixing with screams and gunfire. Lucian moved like death itself—cold, merciless, unstoppable. His men followed his lead, sweeping through the cartel's defenses, leaving bodies in their wake.
Every shot he fired, every throat he cut, wasn't just vengeance. It was a vow. No one touches what's mine.
The Valdez boss himself tried to flee through the back alleys, but Lucian was faster. He cornered him, slammed him against a rusted wall, pressing a pistol to his skull.
"You came into my home. You threatened my blood. You thought you could break me?" Lucian snarled, his voice like steel dragging across stone.
The man trembled, blood seeping from a wound in his shoulder. "It wasn't me—it was bigger than this. Someone else wants her—"
But before he could finish, Lucian pulled the trigger. The echo was final. "Then I'll kill them, too," he growled.
---
Meanwhile…
At the safehouse, Elena tried to stay calm as she read to Isabella, her voice steady though her heart was anything but. Each distant boom of gunfire in the city made her flinch.
She told herself they were safe here, that Lucian had secured the place. But as the night deepened, the guards outside grew restless, shadows moved where they shouldn't, and Elena's instincts screamed.
A knock came at the door. Too soft. Too careful.
"Elena," a voice whispered. Not Marco. Not Lucian.
Her blood froze.
She grabbed Isabella, pulling her behind the bed, and reached for the pistol Lucian had left her. Her hands shook, but her aim was steady.
The door creaked open. A figure stepped inside, dressed in black. Not Valdez. Someone else.
"Elena Nightshade," the intruder hissed, using her full name—a name she hadn't heard in years. "You've been hiding too long. It's time to come home."
Elena's heart dropped. This wasn't just Lucian's war anymore. Her past had found her.
---
Back at the stronghold, Lucian wiped blood from his face, his chest heaving as Marco approached.
"It's done," Marco said. "The Valdez are finished."
Lucian's lips curved in a grim smile. But then his phone rang. He answered—and his face hardened, his blood turning to ice.
"Boss," one of the guards stammered through the line. "The safehouse… it's been breached."
Lucian's hand clenched around the phone. "Elena."
For the first time in years, pure panic ripped through him. He didn't even wait for details. He grabbed his gun, his voice a roar of command.
"Get the cars. We ride now!"
Because no empire, no blood feud, no victory mattered if Elena and Isabella were gone.