The night smelled of danger.
The city's underworld buzzed with whispers as every major mafia family gathered for what they called the coronation. It wasn't a real crowning, but a brutal tradition—a public duel where one mafia king dethrones another in front of every syndicate leader.
And tonight, Leonardo DeLuca was walking into a lion's den to face his own brother.
In the mansion's war room, Leonardo stood in a black three-piece suit tailored like armor. A crimson silk tie hung at his neck, a silent promise of bloodshed. His men loaded weapons, checked ammunition, and prepared for a night where only one DeLuca would leave standing.
Isabella stood near the doorway, pale but resolute. She refused to be left behind.
"You're not coming," Leonardo said sharply when he saw her with a coat draped over her shoulders.
Isabella crossed the room, gripping his lapels. "You think I can sit here, waiting to hear if you're dead or alive?" she hissed. "Matteo won't just kill you, Leo. If you fall, he'll come for me and the baby next."
Leonardo's dark eyes softened for a fleeting second before hardening again. "This isn't your fight."
Her hand went to her belly, her chin lifting defiantly. "This is our fight."
For a moment, Leonardo stared at her, torn between fury and admiration. Finally, he cupped her face and kissed her with raw desperation. "Stay by my side," he said hoarsely. "No matter what happens."
"I swear," she whispered.
The coronation was set in an abandoned cathedral in the heart of the city—a gothic ruin lit by flickering torches, its stained-glass windows shattered like the innocence long lost in this world.
Hundreds of mafia bosses, Bratva warlords, cartel leaders, and crime lords filled the pews, watching like vultures awaiting a feast.
Matteo stood at the altar, dressed in black like his younger brother, a gold cross hanging at his neck. A twisted smirk curved his lips when Leonardo entered, Isabella at his side, flanked by Marco and their soldiers.
"Well, well," Matteo said, his voice echoing in the hollow cathedral. "The prodigal king finally arrives."
Leonardo's gun hand twitched, his fury barely restrained. "You wanted a coronation," he said coldly. "Then let's crown the rightful king—in your blood."
Matteo's laugh was pure venom. "Still the same little brother. Always trying to be like Father but never having the stomach for it."
Leonardo's jaw clenched. "Father chose me because you betrayed him. I put a bullet in you once. I won't miss this time."
The crowd hushed as Matteo stepped closer, his scarred face twisted with rage. "You took everything from me, Leo. The empire, the throne, our family's legacy. Tonight, I take it all back."
The duel began with a bang.
Both brothers moved with lethal precision, gunfire echoing off cathedral walls as their men clashed violently in the aisles. The air filled with screams, smoke, and the metallic stench of blood.
Marco and the DeLuca soldiers fought like rabid wolves, holding off Matteo's army as the brothers circled each other in a deadly dance.
Matteo lunged first, firing. Leonardo dodged, rolling behind a pillar before returning fire. Bullets shattered ancient stone, and stained-glass shards rained like knives.
Isabella crouched behind the altar, heart pounding as chaos exploded around her. She clutched her stomach, whispering prayers as gunfire rang out like church bells of death.
Then Matteo did something no one expected.
He grabbed Isabella.
Matteo moved with serpent-like speed, snatching her from behind the altar and pressing a knife to her throat before anyone could react.
The cathedral fell silent except for Isabella's trembling breaths.
Leonardo froze mid-aim, his gun trained on Matteo's head. "Let her go," he growled, his voice a lethal warning.
Matteo's smirk was pure madness. "Oh, little brother… you've always been predictable. You'd burn an empire for this woman. But will you kill me while I hold her life in my hands?"
Isabella fought against Matteo's grip, her voice shaking but defiant. "Leo, don't stop—end this!"
Leonardo's finger tightened on the trigger, sweat beading on his temple. One wrong move and the knife would end Isabella before the bullet reached Matteo.
Marco shouted from behind cover, "Boss, he's bluffing!"
But Matteo wasn't bluffing. He pressed the blade harder, a thin line of blood appearing on Isabella's delicate skin.
"Drop the gun," Matteo ordered. "Or she dies. Then I'll kill you anyway."
Leonardo's entire body trembled with murderous rage, but he lowered his weapon slowly, letting it clatter to the cathedral floor.
Matteo's laughter echoed like a devil's hymn. "That's the difference between us, Leo. You're weak. Love makes you weak."
But Matteo had underestimated Isabella.
In a sudden, desperate move, Isabella stomped on Matteo's boot heel, wrenching herself sideways just as Marco's bullet flew through the air—piercing Matteo's shoulder and making him stagger back with a roar of pain.
Leonardo lunged, tackling Matteo with bone-crushing force. The brothers crashed through a pew, fists flying, years of hatred spilling out in a brutal storm of blood and rage.
"You should've stayed dead!" Leonardo roared, slamming Matteo's head into the marble floor.
"You stole my life!" Matteo spat back, punching him hard enough to split his lip.
The fight was savage—no guns, no honor, just raw fury between two mafia kings born of the same blood.
Finally, Leonardo overpowered Matteo, pinning him down with a knee to his chest and a gun pressed to his forehead.
Matteo grinned up at him, bloody teeth bared. "Do it," he hissed. "Show them you're just like me."
Silence hung heavy as Leonardo's finger hovered over the trigger.
Isabella stepped forward, her voice steady despite shaking hands. "Leo… don't let him win by becoming him," she pleaded. "End this… but don't lose yourself."
Leonardo's chest heaved. He looked from Matteo to Isabella, then back.
With a guttural roar, Leonardo pulled the trigger—shooting Matteo's leg instead of his head.
Matteo screamed, collapsing in agony as Leonardo rose, standing over him like a dark king.
"This is my throne," Leonardo declared to the silent cathedral, his voice echoing like judgment. "Anyone who tries to take it dies. But I am not my brother."
The crowd erupted, pledging loyalty to Leonardo. Matteo was dragged away by DeLuca men, his rule crushed, his coup obliterated.
Hours later, back at the mansion, Leonardo and Isabella stood on the balcony overlooking their blood-soaked city.
"He's still alive," Isabella said softly.
Leonardo wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "He won't be back. He's finished."
She rested her head on his chest, but unease still churned inside her. "What if someone else tries to take the throne?"
Leonardo kissed her hair, his voice a vow etched in steel. "Then I'll kill them all. Because nothing—no one—will ever take you or our child from me."
But in the distant night, Matteo's laughter echoed faintly in Leonardo's mind—a promise that blood ties are never truly broken.