The estate smoldered under the pale morning sun, smoke curling like fingers through the broken walls. Bella stood atop the shattered steps, surveying the ruin, the battlefield quiet for the first time since dawn. But she felt no victory. Only anticipation. The war wasn't over, and she knew it.
Crystal leaned against a scorched column, arms crossed, chest heaving from exertion. His eyes never left her, dark with desire, fierce and protective all at once. He wiped a streak of ash from his jaw with a thumb, leaving a smear across his cheek, and Bella's pulse jumped. There was something intoxicating in the way he moved, as though danger and seduction were stitched together in every step.
Christian was just behind her, quiet but taut, the calm eye of the storm. His gaze scanned the horizon, calculating, commanding. But when it flicked to her, she felt it like a physical force—care, worry, desire, control, all mingled in the intensity of his look.
"You can't keep doing this," Christian finally said, voice low, almost pained. "Throwing yourself into fire like it's a game."
Bella turned slowly, eyes locked on him, fire in her chest matching the smoke at her feet. "I'm not playing a game," she said, voice soft but unyielding. "I'm setting the rules."
Crystal stepped closer, just behind her, brushing her shoulder with the back of his hand in a gesture that could be read as comfort or claim. "She's right," he said, dark, almost growling. "And if anyone tries to touch her, they'll regret it."
The tension coiled between them, invisible but palpable. Christian's jaw clenched. Crystal's eyes darkened. And Bella—Bella smiled, sharp and dangerous. She didn't have to choose. Not yet. But she could feel the storm building, the pull of both men as magnetic as the war raging around them.
The quiet shattered with the sound of a motorcade far off. Bella's head snapped toward the noise. Russo's forces or whatever remnants remained were regrouping, and this time, they weren't subtle.
Christian moved first, guiding her back behind a reinforced wall. His hands brushed hers as he steadied her, and for a fraction of a second, the world narrowed to them hands touching, heat radiating, the unspoken tension sharp as a blade. "Stay close," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.
Crystal mirrored the motion, taking the opposite side, and Bella felt herself caught in the dangerous pull of both. He leaned slightly, hand brushing hers as he assessed the approaching threat. "Don't let anyone take you," he said, voice harsh, edged with something she wasn't sure she wanted to name.
Bella's lips curved, wicked and small. "You don't get to tell me that," she whispered. "I decide."
And in that moment, she did. She wasn't a pawn. She wasn't a prize. She was fire incarnate, standing at the apex of the chaos, watching both men bend around her will without breaking it.
The enemy hit with precision, a dozen men pouring through the perimeter. Bella moved like water, flowing from cover to cover, rifle precise, eyes blazing. She took down two before a third charged her from the flank. Crystal intercepted, striking him down with lethal speed. Their hands brushed again, lingering far too long to be accidental, and Bella's chest ached with the intensity of it.
Christian barked orders, voice cutting through the chaos: "Hold the left flank! Bella, cover the southeast!"
Bella's grin was feral. "I don't cover. I conquer," she said, and the words carried more truth than any battle strategy.
Crystal growled beside her, leaning close enough that heat radiated from him. "And I'll stand with you, every step."
Christian's eyes softened, a storm within them, but no less dangerous. "And I," he added, tone low, dark, binding. "But one slip… I won't forgive."
Bella didn't flinch. She let herself feel the pull of both Crystal's raw desire and possession, Christian's measured, controlled heat and smiled. "Then keep up," she whispered, voice deadly and inviting all at once.
From the shadows, Anthony watched, silent and amused. He had orchestrated chaos before, but even he felt the shift. Bella wasn't just reacting. She was orchestrating her own war, and the two brothers orbiting her like twin storms were powerless to resist her gravity.
For the first time, she felt it the intoxicating edge of power, desire, and control all tangled together. She was alive. Dangerous. Undeniable. And she knew one thing with clarity: the battle was far from over, but for the first time, she wasn't fighting just to survive. She was fighting to claim everything men, power, war itself.