Chapter 10 Enrico
ENRICO
The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. It crawled down the office windows.
I’d been staring at the map for hours, the cigarette burning down to nothing between my fingers.
Every red mark on the paper was a promise—fulfilled or waiting to be.
The silence was steady, the kind that made thought feel heavy.
Then the phone rang. Three short bursts. “Di Fiore.”
His voice came low, steady but carrying something underneath. “There was an incident at the Moretti estate.”
My spine straightened. “What kind of incident?”
“Small fire. East wing. In the Study. Contained before it spread.”
My fingers froze on the edge of the desk. “The study?”
Marco cleared his throat, cautious. “They say the only thing burned are some documents.”
A long silence. He didn’t need to say anything. She’d done it. Not by accident. Not in panic. On purpose.
I drew a slow breath, exhaled through my nose. A cigarette burned down in the tray. The ember trembled before it died.
She’d sent a message—and she’d used fire to write it.
Something in my chest shifted. It wasn’t anger. It was something far more dangerous.
The phone was still warm in my hand when I made the call to Marco again. “Mobilize everyone we trust. South and west districts. Russo’s holdings. All of them.”
He hesitated on the other end. “Now?”
“Now.”
A pause. “We don’t have a full plan. Intel’s incomplete—”
“I don’t need a plan. I need silence.” My voice came out flat. Precise. Lethal. “Every warehouse, every dock, every street corner with his name on it. I want it erased by dawn.”
There was a soft exhale. “That’s not retaliation. That’s war.”
“Then we’re already late.” I ended the call before he could argue.
The map laid open on the desk, still marked from the last offensive. I brushed my hand across the pins, they toppled one after another, until only a single red pin remained.
The Moretti estate.
I traced the line between it and my own. The distance wasn’t far. It never had been.
If the fire had started anywhere else, I could have dismissed it. Blamed it as an accident. But the study—the documents—our agreement. She hadn’t just burned paper. She’d burned the leash. And now every man in this city would smell weakness.
Russo would move. The old alliances would fracture. My father’s name, my empire, the illusion of control—all of it balanced on the edge of one woman’s defiance. She had no idea what she just did, but it only made it apparent that I had to to do something.
I told myself I was doing this to keep her safe. That destroying Russo first would draw the heat away from her. That it was tactical. Necessary. The truth was known. Protecting her meant war. Loving her might mean losing it.
The whiskey went down harsh, burning the way her name did in my throat. I welcomed it. By sunrise, half the city would be smoking. And maybe, for a few hours, that would be enough to keep her alive.
A couple of hours later, Marco called me down to the warehouse. I walked through it slowly, boots slick with mud. My men waited in silence, clearing bodies, collecting weapons, avoiding my eyes. The kind of silence that only comes after violence — reverent, uneasy, final.
In the center of the room, a man knelt tied to a chair, blood running down his temple. Russo’s lieutenant.
The only one left breathing. Marco stood behind him, arms folded, waiting for my cue. I stopped a few feet away. The man glanced up — not defiant, not pleading. Just hollow. He’d already seen what happened to the others.
“You were supposed to protect this shipment,” I said. My voice stayed calm. Too calm. “You failed.”
He spat blood onto the floor. “You burned half the block tonight.”
“I cleaned it.”
He laughed — a raw, broken sound. “You think this ends with Russo?”
I said nothing.
“You think he’s the one pulling the strings?” His smile widened, teeth glinting in the light. “You’re not even close.”
Marco’s gaze snapped to mine. I raised a hand — just enough to stop him from breaking the man’s jaw. “Who?” I asked.
The lieutenant leaned forward, rope creaking under his weight. “Someone close. Someone who wants you and Moretti both gone.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. The storm outside cracked hard against the metal roof. “I want a fucking name.”
He shook his head, grinning through the blood. “You’ll know soon enough.”
A long beat. Then I turned to Marco. “Get it out of him.”
Marco grabbed the man by the hair, jerking his head back. “You want to die fast or slow?”
The lieutenant met my eyes. “You can’t protect her.”
My hand lifted the gun. One shot. Precise. Clean. Now was not the time for anyone to think I was weak. Someone was coming for my business and her.
Marco released the body, exhaling through his nose. “He was bluffing.”
“Maybe.”
I turned toward the open doors, rain slashing through the night. Someone had moved the board while I was busy guarding the queen.
“Clean this up. And find out who’s playing us.”
Marco nodded, already issuing orders. I didn’t wait to see the rest. I stepped out into the rain, the weight of the night settling over my shoulders like a curse. For the first time in years, I wasn’t sure who the enemy was. Only that if they touched her, none of us would survive what came next.
By the time I made it back to the house, the rain turned to mist. I poured a drink and for a moment, I thought of her — her eyes that night at the wedding, the way she’d stared at me as if she could already see the ruin I’d become.
Below, smoke still drifted from the south district, faint ribbons curling up from the places I’d ordered erased.
Marco and my men would still work through the night, making sure no one spoke Russo’s name again.
But even from here, I could feel it — the city wasn’t quiet. It was waiting.
I stepped onto the balcony and thought of the lieutenant’s last words — You can’t protect her. He hadn’t said don’t. He’d said can’t. As if the universe itself had already decided the outcome.
I set the glass on the railing and leaned both hands against the steel. Control. That was always the illusion. You could plan every move, measure every risk, buy every loyalty—and it still came down to who you will bleed for.
And I already knew my answer. If she wanted fire, I’d give her the world in flames.