The DeLuca estate had returned to a tense silence after the bloody rescue mission. Guards tripled their rounds, and every entry point was fortified with armed men.
But Leonardo wasn't at peace.
The traitor still breathed.
Sofia's betrayal festered like acid in his veins. She had broken into his home, poisoned his trust, and nearly delivered his queen to the Bratva. In the mafia world, betrayal wasn't forgiven—it was erased.
Isabella woke late that morning to find the space beside her empty. Panic surged until she spotted Leonardo by the window, his tall, broad frame tense as he spoke to Marco.
When Marco left, Isabella slipped out of bed, wrapping a silk robe around herself. "Where are you going?" she asked softly, sensing the storm in his demeanor.
Leonardo turned, his dark eyes glinting like polished obsidian. "To finish what should've been done the moment I heard her name," he said grimly. "Sofia dies today."
Isabella flinched. A part of her wanted to beg him to let the woman go, but deep down, she knew mercy didn't exist in this world. Still, fear gnawed at her.
"Leo…" she whispered, stepping closer. "Don't lose yourself to this."
His jaw tightened. "I already lost myself the day they touched you," he said, voice like gravel. "Now, I take it back."
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her lips in a rare, tender gesture. "Stay safe for me, mia regina. I'll be home before sunset."
And with that, he kissed her hard and disappeared into the darkness of vengeance.
Sofia was found hiding in a crumbling apartment on the outskirts of the city. Leonardo arrived flanked by Marco and two soldiers, their presence turning the dilapidated building into a death chamber.
When they kicked down the door, Sofia froze mid-panic, clutching a bag of stolen money. Her face turned ashen the moment her eyes met Leonardo's.
"Boss…" she stammered, falling to her knees. "Please, forgive me! I—I had no choice!"
Leonardo stalked forward like a lion, his steps slow, deliberate, lethal. Marco and the soldiers stepped aside, knowing what was about to unfold.
"No choice?" Leonardo's voice was eerily calm, his Italian accent thickening. "You drugged my wife. Handed her to Volkov. Sold out my family. You breathed my air… and you had no choice?"
Sofia sobbed, crawling toward him. "Volkov threatened my family! I swear, I only did what I had to!"
Leonardo crouched to her level, his hand gripping her chin with icy precision. "And what about my family?" he hissed. "What about the queen you dragged out of her bed while she carried my heir? Did you think about them, Sofia?"
She shook violently, tears streaming down her face. "I… I never meant to hurt her…"
Leonardo's lips curled into a dark, merciless smile. "Intentions don't erase betrayal."
Without another word, he stood, drew his gun, and fired a single, silenced shot into Sofia's chest. She collapsed instantly, lifeless on the floor.
Leonardo stared down at her body, his face an unreadable mask of power and vengeance. "That," he said to no one in particular, "is what happens to snakes in my house."
Marco stepped forward quietly. "Boss… it's done. We can leave."
But Leonardo didn't move immediately. He looked at Sofia's lifeless form and muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "No one threatens my queen."
Then he turned and walked out, the sound of his boots echoing like a funeral march.
Back at the mansion, Isabella waited anxiously in their suite. The moment Leonardo entered, she rushed to him, searching his face for answers.
"It's done," he said simply, pulling her into his arms.
Isabella clung to him, torn between relief and dread. She'd known he would kill Sofia, yet witnessing how easily he spoke of it reminded her of the ruthless man she'd married.
"Does it ever stop?" she asked quietly against his chest. "The blood… the killing?"
Leonardo tilted her chin up, his gaze heavy with unspoken truths. "No," he admitted softly. "Not for men like me. Not for kings who sit on thrones built from ash and bullets."
Her breath hitched. "Then what about us? About raising a child in this?"
A flicker of pain crossed his features before he kissed her forehead. "That's why I fight so hard, bella. So our child never has to see this darkness. So they only know safety… even if it damns my soul."
Isabella's heart ached, torn between love and fear.
Later that night, while Leonardo slept beside her, Isabella wandered into his private study. She'd never dared open the locked drawer in his desk before, but something in her gut told her the war with Volkov wasn't the end.
When she finally picked the lock, she found old photographs, yellowed letters… and a bloodstained dagger with a crest she didn't recognize.
At the bottom of the drawer was a single, ominous letter addressed to Leonardo in thick, bold handwriting:
"I'm coming for you, little brother. The throne won't save you this time."
Isabella's blood ran cold as realization struck her—Leonardo's past wasn't just bloody.
It was family