Clash of Kings
The world slowed.
Lucian's gun was raised, his finger steady on the trigger, aimed squarely at Dante Marino's chest. Across the ruined living room, Dante stood cool and composed, his men frozen between them like pawns caught between two kings.
"Lucian Moretti," Dante said softly, almost with reverence. "At last, face to face."
Lucian's voice was a growl, primal and sharp. "You made the biggest mistake of your life stepping into my home."
Dante tilted his head. "Home? Interesting choice of words. You mean the woman and the child? They're not your weakness, Lucian. They're your chains. And I'm here to snap them."
Lucian fired.
The shot missed Dante by an inch as the rival boss shifted, his coat flaring like wings. Chaos erupted—gunfire thundered, walls splintered, men screamed.
Elena ducked, pulling Isabella into the panic room, shielding her daughter with trembling arms. From the crack of the steel door, she watched hell unfold.
Lucian was a storm. Every shot was lethal, his body moving with the fluidity of a predator unleashed. Three of Dante's men fell within seconds. Blood pooled across the floorboards, the smell of iron choking the air.
But Dante was no fool. He didn't come to die.
He fought with precision, his own bullets carving close, forcing Lucian into cover. For a moment, their eyes locked across the smoke-filled room—two devils staring into each other's souls.
"This isn't your night," Dante hissed, retreating toward the broken window as the last of his men provided cover fire.
Lucian roared, surging forward, but Dante slipped back into the shadows, his voice echoing as he vanished into the night.
"Protect them well, Moretti. Because next time… I'll take them from your arms."
---
Silence.
The room reeked of death. Lucian stood amidst the bodies, his chest heaving, blood splattered across his face. His gun lowered slowly, his hands trembling—not from fear, but from the tidal wave of rage and terror crashing inside him.
"Elena," he called, voice breaking.
The panic room door creaked open. Elena emerged, clutching Isabella, tears streaking her face. At the sight of them alive, Lucian's knees almost buckled. He crossed the distance in two strides, wrapping them both in his arms so tightly Elena could hardly breathe.
Isabella sobbed into his chest. Elena felt his heart pounding like a war drum.
"I almost lost you," Lucian whispered, his voice raw. "I swear to God, Elena… no one will ever touch you again. I'll burn this world to the ground first."
Elena buried her face against him, knowing for the first time that his love wasn't just fire—it was destruction.
And Dante Marino had just lit the match.