The cellar reeked of damp stone and betrayal. The air was cold enough to bite, thick with mildew and the faint tang of rust from the chains bolted to the wall. The single hanging bulb swung gently overhead, casting jagged shadows across Enzo's bound form. His face glistened with sweat, his chest heaving in uneven bursts.
He looked less like the sharp-eyed soldier Gabe had once trusted and more like a cornered animal—wild, trembling, ready to chew through his own leg if it meant escape.
Gabe stood in front of him, still as stone, his silence heavier than any threat. One hand braced against the battered table at his side, the other gripping a knife he'd drawn from his belt. He didn't move. He didn't need to. His presence alone pressed down on the room like a storm waiting to break.
Lottie lingered near the far wall, arms wrapped tight around herself, heart hammering so hard it felt deafening. She had known this world demanded blood for betrayal, had heard it spoken in whispers and warnings—but seeing it unfold in flesh and bone was another thing entirely.
"Say it," Gabe said at last, voice low, deliberate, each word sharpened on the edge of fury.
Enzo's eyes flickered toward Lottie, then back to Gabe. His lips trembled. "I swear on my life, I didn't—"
"Wrong words."
The blade slammed into the wooden table beside Enzo's hand, burying deep into the grain. The metal quivered with the force, an inch from his skin. Enzo flinched violently, nearly tipping his chair, his chest heaving as though he'd already been cut open.
"Say what he promised you," Gabe repeated, his tone steady but deadly.
Enzo's throat bobbed as he swallowed. The words dragged out of him like splinters. "He… he said he could give me out. A way to leave. Money, safety." His breath broke, his eyes shining with desperation. "My family. My kids, Gabe. You don't know what it's like—watching men die every day for a war that never ends. He offered me life."
"You already had life," Gabe snarled. His voice echoed off the stone walls, rough and raw. He leaned down, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles whitened. "I gave you family. I gave you loyalty. And you sold it like scraps in the gutter."
Enzo shook his head wildly, tears streaking down through the sweat on his face. "No, no, you don't understand! He said—he said she'd be your undoing." His gaze flicked toward Lottie again, feverish and frantic. "That all I had to do was let him close enough to watch her burn with you. I didn't—"
"Stop." Gabe's voice cut like ice, halting him mid-sentence.
In one swift move, he grabbed Enzo's chin, forcing his eyes to his own. The grip was firm, unrelenting, like a predator pinning prey.
"You think blaming her will spare you?" Gabe's tone dropped into something darker, a growl vibrating low in his chest. "You think shifting your treachery makes you less of a coward?"
Enzo stuttered, lips quivering. "I—I didn't mean—"
But Gabe's glare silenced him.
Lottie's stomach twisted, her pulse roaring in her ears. Enzo's words replayed over and over. She'd be his undoing. This wasn't the first time she'd heard it. It chilled her to think that Vitale's entire strategy, his venomous ambition, was tethered to her.
Marco paced in the shadows, his jaw tight, fists clenching with every word. His impatience hung thick in the air. "Boss," he muttered, his voice low but edged. "He's already told us enough. Just give the word."
But Gabe didn't answer right away. His gaze burned into Enzo's face, and in that silence Lottie saw more than fury. She saw something deeper—something carved of sorrow and disappointment. Enzo hadn't just betrayed a boss. He'd betrayed a brotherhood.
Finally, Gabe let go of Enzo's chin, straightening to his full height. His expression hardened into something impenetrable.
"A man who sells blood for breath doesn't deserve either."
The knife came down fast—Enzo's gasp sharp and high—but instead of sinking into flesh, the blade sliced through the ropes binding his wrists. The sudden release sent him sprawling forward, disoriented, confused.
"You'll walk out of here alive," Gabe said, his voice cold as a winter storm. "But you'll never walk back."
Enzo blinked up at him, dumbfounded.
"You'll find Vitale," Gabe continued, his tone steel-wrapped command. "You'll tell him I know. And you'll deliver him a message."
Enzo trembled, voice breaking. "Wh-what message?"
Gabe crouched down, his face inches from Enzo's, his words slow and deliberate. "Tell him his serpent has been skinned. And the next time I see him, I'll take his heart with my own hands."
Enzo whimpered, his breath shaking as guards hauled him up by the arms. He nodded frantically, anything to escape the cellar's suffocating grip.
The door slammed shut behind him. Silence fell again, heavier than before.
Marco finally broke it, his voice simmering with disbelief. "You let him go."
"I used him," Gabe corrected. His gaze remained fixed on the knife still embedded in the table. "Fear is a sharper knife than death. Vitale will see him crawl back and know I'm already inside his head."
Marco muttered something under his breath, but didn't push. He stormed upstairs, barking orders to reinforce the estate.
When the sound of his boots faded, only Gabe and Lottie remained in the cellar.
She stepped forward, her voice low, fragile. "You could've killed him."
"I should've." Gabe finally looked at her. His eyes burned with a thousand unspoken things—rage, weariness, a sorrow he'd never admit aloud. "But Vitale needs to bleed slower. He needs to feel it. Piece by piece."
The darkness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, but what unsettled her more was the fracture beneath it. She reached out, her hand brushing his arm, fingers tentative but steady. His muscles were tight beneath her touch, coiled like steel.
"You scare me sometimes," she whispered, the truth pulled from her chest.
His gaze locked onto hers, raw and unguarded for a fleeting moment. "Good," he murmured. "Then you'll survive me."
But even as he said it, the words rang hollow. Because she could see what he tried to hide—he wasn't only fighting Vitale. He was fighting himself.
⸻
That night, the estate was restless. Guards doubled their patrols, radios crackled with clipped commands, and every shifting shadow seemed to carry threat.
Lottie sat alone in Gabe's office, surrounded by silence except for the faint ticking of the clock. The desk before her was cluttered with maps and reports, red lines carved across paper, blue markers scattered like wounds across the city.
A war, laid out in ink and paper.
Her gaze drifted to Gabe's phone, abandoned on the desk. The screen still glowed faintly with the message that had started it all: You can't protect what burns from within.
Her stomach knotted. She thought of Enzo's frantic words, the way he'd tied her to Gabe's downfall. The weight pressed heavy against her chest. She wasn't just someone Vitale wanted to hurt—she was the weapon he wanted to wield.
And if she didn't find a way to turn that weapon back on him, she feared she'd be the one to break Gabe's empire from the inside.
⸻
Across the city, in a warehouse lit by a single buzzing bulb, Enzo stumbled forward and collapsed to his knees before Richard Vitale.
The rival's smile was cruel, his posture relaxed as though welcoming an old friend. He listened patiently to Enzo's stammering recount of Gabe's fury, of the message he carried back.
"He let you live," Vitale said at last, almost laughing. "How poetic. He thinks fear cuts deeper than steel."
He leaned forward, his hand gripping Enzo's chin much as Gabe had hours earlier. The gesture mirrored, but twisted. Colder. Crueler.
"You tell Cavelli this," Vitale said, voice silken with menace. "Fear is my kingdom. And when I take his woman, I won't let her burn fast. I'll make her ashes last forever."
He shoved Enzo back, his smile sharp as a knife.
"The war begins at dawn."