Fire and Blood
The warehouse had turned into a warzone.
Gunfire cracked like thunder, bullets ricocheting off steel beams, sparks flying through the smoke-filled air. Shouts and curses mingled with the sound of bodies hitting the ground. The stench of blood and oil thickened with every passing second.
Elena moved like a woman possessed.
Her hands shook at first, but her determination steadied them with each pull of the trigger. One guard fell. Then another. Each kill etched fire into her soul, not from cruelty, but from love—the love that drove her into the very mouth of hell to save the man she refused to lose.
"Elena!" Lucian's voice, raw and broken, cut through the chaos. She glanced up.
He was still chained, his body a map of bruises and blood. His head hung low, but his eyes… his eyes blazed with something primal. Rage. And pride.
"You shouldn't be here!" he roared.
Her chest tightened, but she shook her head fiercely as she ducked behind a steel crate, reloading with trembling fingers. "I told you, Lucian. I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever."
Bullets rained, striking sparks against the metal inches from her head. She sucked in a breath, rolled out, and fired back. One shot clipped a man's shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground.
"Elena, listen to me!" Lucian's voice strained against his chains. "Dante will use you—"
"Let him try!" she snapped, eyes burning with tears and fury. "He's not taking you from me!"
A harsh laugh cut through the gunfire. Dante stepped out of the shadows, hands clasped behind his back, calm as though he strolled through a garden.
"Touching," he drawled, his gaze sliding over Elena. "The maid turned queen. Do you know what happens to queens in stories, Elena? They burn first."
Her grip on the gun tightened. "Come closer and I'll show you how maids fight back."
Dante's smirk widened. He snapped his fingers, and more men poured in from the side entrances. Ten, maybe twelve, armed and hungry for blood. Elena's stomach knotted.
This wasn't just a rescue. It was a suicide mission.
She crouched, heart hammering, when suddenly—
BOOM!
The side wall of the warehouse exploded inward, smoke and debris filling the air. A black SUV crashed halfway through the steel siding, its doors flying open. Figures in black tactical gear leapt out, guns blazing.
Lucian's loyal men.
Alessandro led them, face grim, eyes locked on Lucian. "Boss! We're here!"
Hope surged through Lucian's veins like fire. He threw his weight against the chains, metal groaning but holding. His fury rose like a storm.
Dante snarled, his composure cracking. "Kill them all!"
The warehouse erupted in chaos. Dante's men clashed with Lucian's, bullets and blades tearing through the smoke. Elena seized the moment, sprinting across the floor toward Lucian.
"Elena, no!" he bellowed.
But she didn't stop. She reached him, fumbling with the locks on his chains, her fingers slick with his blood. "Hold on, I'll get you out—"
The lock wouldn't budge. She cursed, fumbling harder, when a shadow loomed behind her.
"Elena!" Lucian roared.
She spun just as a guard raised his knife. She fired point-blank, the recoil jolting her shoulder. The man crumpled, but more swarmed.
Lucian's rage boiled over. He heaved against the chains with a guttural roar, muscles tearing, wrists bleeding. The metal groaned, bent—then finally, with a deafening snap, one shackle gave way. His arm dropped free, slick with blood but burning with power.
The second followed, and Lucian fell to his knees, gasping. Then he rose.
Even battered, half-dead, and dripping blood, he was terrifying. The Devil was free again.
"Elena," he rasped, his voice trembling with equal parts fury and love. "Get back."
She shook her head stubbornly. "Not without you."
Dante's eyes widened, but only for a second. Then he smirked, raising his gun, aiming straight at Elena.
"Move, Moretti," Dante sneered, "or watch her die in front of you."
Lucian stepped forward, shielding her with his body. His voice was low, deadly. "You'll have to go through me first."
The room stilled. Even amidst the chaos, even with bullets flying, the world narrowed to the two of them—Lucian and Dante, predator and predator, locked in a dance of death.
Dante cocked the gun. "Then so be it."
BANG!
The shot rang out, echoing through the warehouse. Elena screamed—
But it wasn't Lucian who fell.
Dante staggered, clutching his arm where the bullet had ripped through flesh. He spun, fury twisting his features.
Alessandro lowered his smoking gun. "No one touches him."
Lucian didn't waste a second. He lunged, tackling Dante to the ground. The gun skidded across the floor. They crashed into a pile of steel chains, fists flying, teeth bared. It wasn't a fight—it was a blood feud centuries old, boiling down to this one moment.
Lucian's fists rained down, fueled by Matteo's betrayal, Elena's tears, Isabella's laughter. Each punch cracked bone, split skin.
"This is for Matteo," Lucian growled, slamming his fist into Dante's jaw.
Another punch.
"This is for Isabella."
Another.
"And this—" he lifted Dante's head, snarling, "this is for daring to touch her."
He drove his fist down one final time, Dante's head snapping back. Blood sprayed across the floor.
But Dante laughed, weak and broken. "Kill me, Moretti… and you'll never find the others I've set loose."
Lucian froze, chest heaving. "Others?"
Dante coughed blood, grinning through broken teeth. "Naples isn't yours anymore. While you rot here… my men are already moving. Your empire burns tonight."
Lucian's eyes widened, fury colliding with horror. Elena's hand found his, trembling.
The war wasn't over. It had only just begun.