Chapter 26 Bianca
BIANCA
The third wave hits us like a fucking tsunami.
Through the displays, I watch as military-grade vehicles pour into the compound from every direction. These aren’t Calabrese street soldiers anymore—these are professionals with tactical gear, coordinated movements, and firepower that makes the night sky look like the Fourth of July.
Kill them all, Giuseppe’s voice roars in my head, his fury matching the explosions that rock the building around us. Show no mercy. Burn them all.
Make them suffer first, Sophia whispers coldly. Let them understand what they’ve brought down on themselves.
You need to end this efficiently, Matteo’s voice cuts through both of them, providing a voice of reason even as the walls shake around us. Minimal collateral damage. Preserve what we can.
For a moment, I stand frozen in the center of the room, three different approaches warring in my mind while the battle rages outside. Giuseppe demands overwhelming brutality. Sophia wants psychological torture. Matteo counsels strategic precision.
What to do. What to do. What to do.
Then I see Alessandro nearly vibrating with impatience, clearly wanting to head back into the firefight, and suddenly all three voices align into perfect harmony.
Protect what matters most.
“The east wing is collapsing,” Alessandro mentions, studying the displays. “We need to reinforce the main courtyard or they’ll break through our center.”
Bless him for helping me make my decision, even if it is inadvertent.
“Then that’s where we go,” I decide, grabbing my gear. “If we’re going to make a stand, it should be where everyone can see us fighting.”
We move quickly through the compound’s corridors, gathering soldiers as we go. The main courtyard is chaos—smoke, gunfire, and the acrid smell of explosives filling the air. But it’s also where most of our people have taken positions, using the fountain and landscaping for cover.
Alessandro positions himself near the center of the courtyard, coordinating our defensive lines while I work on flanking maneuvers. Our people can see both of us, fighting alongside them instead of hiding in the safety of the war room.
“Bianca!” he calls out over the gunfire, his face smeared with soot and blood. “I need you to coordinate the retreat routes. If this goes completely sideways—”
“We’re not retreating,” I interrupt firmly, moving toward him across the open space of the courtyard. “We’re going to break them here and now.”
“You don’t understand.” He grabs my arm as I reach him, his voice urgent and his eyes searching mine. “This isn’t just about winning anymore. This is about—”
The sharp crack of a rifle cuts through his words.
In slow motion, I watch the bullet travel through the air and hit Alessandro.
It punches through his chest with a wet, tearing sound that makes me scream.
The impact drives him backward, and I watch in horror as blood erupts from both the entry wound in his chest and the larger exit wound in his back.
The world seems to stop and I’m frozen in shock before time speeds up again and I’m faced with the realization that Alessandro has been shot.
“Alessandro!” I scream, catching him as he collapses completely in the middle of the courtyard, his weight nearly taking us both down to the stone pavement. “No!”
Around us, the battle seems to pause for a heartbeat as our soldiers see their leader fall.
Blood is everywhere—soaking through his vest, spreading in a rapidly growing pool beneath us, covering my hands as I frantically search for the source of the worst bleeding.
His breathing comes in short, shallow gasps, each exhale accompanied by a horrible wet rattling sound that tells me the bullet hit his lung.
NO, all three voices roar in unison, their fury so intense it makes my vision blur with hot tears of rage. NOT HIM. NOT ALESSANDRO.
“Stay with me,” I gasp, pressing both hands against the chest wound as blood pulses hot and thick between my fingers. “Don’t you dare leave me. Don’t you fucking dare.”
His hazel eyes are unfocused, pupils dilated with shock and blood loss. When he tries to speak, pink foam bubbles at the corners of his mouth. “Bianca…I can’t…can’t breathe…”
“Save your strength,” I snarl, but my voice cracks completely and a sob rips through my mouth. He’s dying. Right here in my arms, in front of everyone, the man I love more than life itself is dying, and I can’t stop it.
Every soldier in the courtyard can see what’s happening. They watch their future donna holding her partner as he bleeds out from a sniper’s bullet, and I can feel their shock and rage building around us.
The sight of him dying in my arms triggers something primal and violent that drowns out every rational thought. This isn’t about strategy anymore, or family honor, or even survival. I don’t even care that they tried to kill me during the last trial.
This is about the fact that someone just shot the man I love, and they’re going to fucking pay for it with everything they have.
“Get…medic,” he gasps, his eyes struggling to focus on my face. “Then…end them all.”
Our soldiers watch as Alessandro’s eyes close and his body goes limp in my arms.
“No!” I scream, frantically moving my hands to his wrist and neck, desperately looking for a pulse. My chest heaves with sobs as my hands slip on his skin due to the amount of blood on them. Please have a pulse. Please be alive. “Y-you can’t leave me,” I cry out. “I love you.”
There. A pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. My momentary joy is quickly overtaken by a need to get him to safety immediately.
“Antonio!” I shout. “Get medics here now! And get Alessandro to safety!”
“Already on it,” Antonio responds, signaling to two soldiers who rush forward with a stretcher.
The soldiers carefully lift Alessandro and gently move him to the stretcher.
The thought of him not being by my side sends a wave of anxiety so strong I am nearly knocked over, but I hold myself back.
I can’t fall apart right now. I have to be strong for the soldiers who are watching me.
They are waiting to see what I do next. Will I break down or will I pull myself together and be a leader?
They’re going to see a leader.
“I’m going to kill every last one of them,” I say aloud as Alessandro is stretchered away, loud enough that my men can hear me. “They’re going to pay for what they’ve done to the DeLucas.”
Something inside me snaps completely. The sight of his blood on the courtyard stones, the memory of his labored breathing, the knowledge that he might die because of Dominic’s war—it all crystallizes into pure, focused rage.
I slowly turn to face the soldiers around me, my hands still covered in Alessandro’s blood. They can see the change in my face, the way grief and fury have transformed me into something cold-blooded and ruthless.
“Listen to me,” I call out, my voice carrying across the courtyard despite the ongoing gunfire. “They shot Alessandro. They came into our home, they tried to destroy our family, and they shot the man I love.”
The soldiers around me are nodding, their own anger building as they see their future don covered in blood.
“So now we’re going to show them what happens when you corner the DeLucas,” I continue, pulling out my weapon. “No mercy, no prisoners, no survivors. We end this tonight.”
Yes, all three voices agree in perfect harmony. End them all.
“Antonio!” I turn to Matteo’s right-hand man. “Where’s their command structure? Where are they coordinating from?”
“We’re picking up heavy radio chatter from the west building,” he reports immediately, his own face smeared with blood. “That’s where their leadership is holed up. They’ve got good sightlines and multiple escape routes from there.”
“Excellent. We’re going there,” I declare, thrusting my weapon into the air “Move out! For Alessandro! For the family!”
“For Alessandro! For the family!” comes the rallying cry.
The assault on the main building is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Our soldiers follow me with the kind of desperate fury that comes from watching their leaders bleed. We move through the compound like a force of nature, destroying every Calabrese position we encounter.
I’m not thinking anymore. I’m just reacting, letting muscle memory and training guide me while fury provides the fuel. Every shot I fire, every enemy I drop, brings me one step closer to the man responsible for Alessandro’s blood on my hands.
Show no mercy, Giuseppe demands as we close in on our objective.
The path to Dominic is littered with bodies—his soldiers who thought they could hold defensive positions against a woman motivated by love and vengeance. They were wrong.
When we finally breach the west wing, Dominic Calabrese steps out from behind an overturned desk, flanked by his remaining soldiers. He’s not hiding anymore and not commanding from safety. His expensive suit is torn and bloodstained, his dark hair disheveled, but his eyes burn with desperate fury.
“Bianca DeLuca,” he snarls, raising his weapon. “Giuseppe’s little bastard daughter. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
He wants to face you directly, Matteo’s voice observes.
He thinks he can intimidate you, Sophia whispers contemptuously.
Good, Giuseppe roars with savage satisfaction. Let him come.
“Dominic Calabrese,” I reply mockingly, my voice steady despite the rage burning in my chest. “The inconsequential little man who was stupid enough to think he could manipulate and murder a DeLuca and a DeLuca ally and get away with it.”
“I’m stupid?” He laughs, signaling his men to spread out around us.
“Your boyfriend is bleeding out in some makeshift medical station, your compound is burning, and in five minutes federal agents are going to storm in here and arrest everyone still breathing. I’d say I’ve brilliantly achieved what I set out to do. ”
The words about Alessandro make my heart squeeze painfully, but they also crystallize my fury into something cold and sharp. This man is the reason why Alessandro was shot. This man tried to destroy my family. This man thinks he’s won.
He’s about to learn exactly how wrong he is.
“You made one mistake, Dominic,” I tell him, feeling my soldiers take positions around me. “You forgot that when you corner a DeLuca, we don’t surrender. We destroy everything in our path.”
“Oh, do you?” His smile is mocking as he raises his pistol. “Let’s see how much destroying you can do.”
The firefight erupts in close quarters, brutal and vicious. Dominic’s men are professionals, but they’re facing DeLuca soldiers who are fighting to avenge their wounded leader. The room fills with gunfire and smoke as we exchange shots across overturned furniture and debris.
I’m not even thinking anymore. I’m just feeling. Every shot is calculated for maximum effect. Dominic’s soldiers fall one by one, but he keeps fighting, ducking behind cover and returning fire with the desperate behavior of a man who knows he’s about to lose everything.
“You should have stayed hidden in whatever hole your family crawled out of,” I shout as I reload, using Giuseppe’s brutal directness to press the attack.
“You should have died in that trial like you were supposed to,” he shouts back, his bullets sparking off the pillar I’m using for cover.
“Maybe you should have actually made them tough!” I taunt, peeking over the pillar and shooting. Dominic’s bark of pain is a sound I will cherish forever.
The battle continues for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes. My ears ring from the confined gunfire, and smoke burns my eyes, but I keep moving, keep shooting, keep closing the distance between us.
Finally, it’s just Dominic and me, facing each other across a room littered with bodies and brass casings. His weapon is empty and mine has one bullet left. We’re both breathing hard, both bloodied, both pushed past the point of exhaustion.
“This is for Alessandro,” I tell him, my voice steady despite everything.
“This is for my family,” he snarls back, reaching for a backup weapon.
I’m faster.
The bullet catches him dead center, driving him backward against the wall. His hand falls away from his weapon as blood spreads across his expensive shirt. But he’s still conscious, still staring at me with hatred burning in his dark eyes.
“You think…you think this ends it?” he gasps, blood frothing at his lips. “The feds…they’re not here by accident. I made sure…made sure they’d come for you.”
I walk closer, my empty weapon still trained on him. “Maybe they will, but you won’t be around to see it.”
I draw my backup piece and put a final bullet through his forehead. The hatred finally fades from his eyes as he slides down the wall, leaving a crimson smear on the white paint.
“Give my regards to Johnny,” I tell his corpse sarcastically.
The war is over. My knees shake with exhaustion and I nearly collapse right there. We won. We did it. My thoughts are immediately with Alessandro. I need to get to the hospital now and make sure he’s okay. I need to find Matteo and Bella and the twins—
“Miss DeLuca!” One of my soldiers bursts through the doorway, his face urgent. “Federal vehicles—at least a dozen surrounding the compound. FBI, ATF, probably Homeland Security.”
Fuck. Our real problems are just beginning.
“And there’s something else…” the soldier continues.
My head snaps in his direction. “What? What do you mean?”
The soldier’s face is white. “News helicopters. This whole battle has been broadcast live across the city. Every major network is covering it.”
My exhaustion immediately takes a backseat. You’ve got to be kidding me. This has Dominic Calabrese’s sticky fingers written all over it.
Even in death he’s still trying to fuck with me.
Sirens sound and I rush to the windows. Through the shattered glass, I can see what he means.
Black vehicles with government plates are forming a perimeter around the compound, and teams in federal gear are taking positions that suggest they’re preparing for a siege rather than arrests.
But above them, helicopters circle like vultures, their searchlights and cameras recording everything.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my heart pounding. Even in all my plans and contingencies, I never accounted for this.
This was always the risk, Matteo’s voice observes with grim acceptance.
We can still fight our way out, Giuseppe insists. We’ve beaten worse odds.
But as I look down at the blood on my hands—Alessandro’s blood mixed with Dominic’s—and hear the federal agents taking positions around the compound while cameras record our every move, I realize that for the first time since this all began that the voices aren’t enough.
I may have won the battle, but the real war is just beginning.
And it’s with the fucking feds and the whole world.
Fuck.