Queen Mafia*
*Chapter 9: The Price of Power*
Rain fell heavily over the rooftops of Prague, painting the city in a gloomy sheen. The cobblestone streets reflected the flicker of street lamps, and thunder rumbled in the distance like a warning from the heavens themselves.
Sienna De Luca sat alone in an abandoned cathedral—her temporary stronghold, far from the chaos of Moscow. Her wet leather coat clung to her skin as she stared at the ancient altar before her. A place once meant for peace, now soaked with the memories of war.
Matteo entered silently, shaking water off his jacket.
"They're calling it a massacre," he said. "News is spreading fast. The Volkov estate… it's ashes now."
Sienna didn't look at him. "And Arkady?"
"Dead. Your shot was clean." He paused. "But his son, Nikolai… he wasn't there."
Her jaw tightened. "Then this war isn't over."
***
Back in their new hideout, the team regrouped. Viktor was bandaged from a shoulder wound. Elena leaned against the wall, sharpening a blade with quiet fury.
A map of Europe lay across the table. Red pins scattered through cities—enemies, allies, shadows. And in the center, a black crown symbol over Italy. Rome. The throne of De Luca power.
"We've caused a storm," Matteo said. "But storms don't last forever."
Sienna stepped forward, eyes on Rome. "No. But queens do."
She turned to the others.
"Volkov is weakened. Our enemies will scramble. They'll either try to destroy us—or join us."
Elena raised an eyebrow. "What's the next move?"
Sienna pulled a small velvet box from her coat. Inside—her family ring, bearing the De Luca crest.
"I take back what's mine. Every city. Every deal. Every ounce of respect."
She placed the ring on her finger.
"I'm done playing defense."
***
Three nights later, Sienna arrived in Rome under a false identity. She wore a sleek black dress, her hair tied in a sharp bun. The gala was a charity event—attended by politicians, celebrities… and criminals hiding behind luxury.
She walked confidently through the grand ballroom, her heels echoing against marble floors.
A familiar voice stopped her.
"Well, well. The ghost of De Luca returns."
She turned slowly.
Giovanni.
Her cousin. Her betrayer. Now wearing her father's ring.
"Giovanni," she said smoothly. "You've been keeping my seat warm."
He smiled, fake and venomous. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet," she said, stepping closer, "here I am. And soon, you won't be."
Before he could respond, whispers began to rise around the room. The crowd sensed the tension. The real Queen had returned.
Sienna leaned in, whispering coldly in his ear, "Enjoy your last night at the top."
***
Outside, Matteo waited in the getaway car, engine humming.
Sienna slid in, rain streaking down the window beside her.
"Did he see it coming?" he asked.
"No," she said. "But he will."
She pulled out her phone and sent one message:
*"Begin the takeover."*
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