Chapter 34
The tub was filled with rose petals and scents — jasmine, vanilla, lavender. I poured oil into the water and lowered myself in, letting heat wrap around my body.
I closed my eyes.
The telephone ringing snapped me out of near-sleep.
I groaned in frustration.
I stepped out of the tub and hurried to the phone.
Naked.
Foam clung to my skin. Water dripped down my thighs.
"Hello?"
"Your voice is very soothing, Luna."
Hunter.
I sat on the wooden chair, bare skin against cool wood.
Silence reigned on my side.
"Is… everything alright?"
Worry laced his voice.
I wanted to tell him I was not okay. That my finger was hovering over a grave. That my past was trying to crawl back into my life and dismantle everything.
"Yeah… just work stuff."
Lie.
"I want to see you. Without a mask or anything. Just you and me."
His breathing was even.
I held mine to match his.
"We're not in the same country. How are we going to meet?"
"I can come to Italy. You just say the word."
My eyes widened.
"About that… I'm not in Italy. I'm in America."
Silence.
Then—
"Is it? Guess we're in the same country…"
A slight chuckle.
My stomach flipped.
"So what about next weekend? We could go down to a bar or a restaurant. Any place you choose."
"A bar will do."
I smiled.
And our conversation bled into hours.
DAEMON'S POV
I couldn't shake off the feeling of failure that had been stalking me lately.
Failure doesn't knock. It doesn't announce itself. It sits on your chest while you sleep and whispers that you are replaceable.
If I didn't take over America's largest mafia group, I'd be forced to give up my seat to whoever was next in line. The thought alone made my stomach twist.
I didn't have siblings.
No obvious heir.
No bloodline successor.
Which meant the wolves were circling.
My eyes were bloodshot from excessive drug use. Alcohol and coke — you name it. I had poured everything into my veins except peace. The whiskey in my hand trembled slightly, not from fear but from the rage I was swallowing daily.
A slight knock landed on my door.
I raised my eyes slowly from the glass.
"Come in."
The door opened, and instantly my mood tightened like a fist.
The man at my door stood tall, chest broad and wide like he carried the weight of Sicily on his bones. His black hair was cut messily in a wolf style — deliberate chaos.
Luca.
He walked in without hesitation and took a seat. Right leg over left. Comfortable. Too comfortable.
"You look like shit," he started.
"I know," I scoffed.
I didn't have the energy to pretend otherwise.
"When is the transfer of power taking place?" he asked. His voice wasn't mocking — it was demanding. "This plan has been brewing for a long time, Daemon. Executed… but to no avail."
He ran his hand through his messy hair, frustration bleeding through every movement.
"I have everything planned out. Just relax."
I wanted this conversation over. I wasn't in the mood to entertain doubt. Not even from him.
"Keep lying to yourself!" His tone sharpened. "You know what Diablo did to us… a lot of our men were shipped to us in cans. Canned human beings in vinegar!"
His jaw clenched violently.
The room went colder.
That day still lived in our bones. The humiliation. The brutality. The message.
We had started that war expecting victory.
Not annihilation.
Not that kind of massacre.
"Christian will be killed," I said quietly.
Not yelled.
Promised.
"You will watch as I cut open his chest and rip his heart out."
I meant every word.
It wasn't bravado. It was destiny.
"You better act fast," Luca straightened. "Someone is inches away from replacing you."
That hit harder than the drugs ever could.
"You know how much I care for you, kid. You'll forever have my vote and support. But this? You need to figure your shit out and show them you deserve this chair more than anyone."
The chair.
Power isn't about money.
It's about survival.
"Diablo is slippery as fuck," I growled. "I thought I had him in Tuscany. The bastard slipped right through my fingers."
The rage in me felt corrosive. Acid couldn't burn the way humiliation does.
"How about the Mexicans?" Luca asked. "Have you tried to strike a deal with them?"
"I did. A generous one. Their leader said he'd think about it."
I gulped the whiskey down, welcoming the burn like punishment.
"He's taking forever."
Luca stared into nothingness thoughtfully.
"Perhaps we should try to strike one with the Germans. They are partners with Christian. If we are to hit him the hardest… we attack from the inside."
Brilliant.
Dangerous.
But brilliant.
"It would only work if they agreed," I said.
"Or…" Luca's lips curled slowly, "we plant our own hacker in his system."
Silence.
Then a slow smile crept onto my face.
Now we were talking.
I stood in front of our best hackers.
Rows of brilliance. Dangerous minds behind glowing screens.
Eric.
Forty years old. Carved his name into the black market at fifteen. There was no code he couldn't crack. No firewall he couldn't melt.
He was reliable.
Experienced.
But age makes men cautious.
Caution gets people killed.
If he slipped and Christian traced it back to us, Diablo would storm into my territory and burn everything. He would not negotiate.
I moved past Eric.
And stopped at Eva.
Nineteen.
Young.
Hungry.
And terrifyingly gifted.
She had broken into systems that governments swore were untouchable. A few clicks. A few keystrokes. Entire empires exposed.
She also had an ethereal beauty that could disarm even the most disciplined man. Long legs. A body designed to distract.
She would be perfect.
"The rest of you can get back to work," I commanded.
Chairs rolled back. Screens dimmed.
"Eva. My office."
She followed. Closed the door behind her carefully.
"You got the assignment," I began. "This is your chance to step into the big leagues. If you pull this off, you'll be the first Sicilian in your family to become a mafia queen. You'll have your own group."
I dressed the lie beautifully.
In reality, she'd be lucky to head a department.
Her mouth hung open.
"B-boss, I—I don't know what to say!"
Her excitement irritated me. Happiness is naïve in our world.
"Do everything in your power to get a job in his group," I said slowly. "By anything… I mean anything."
Her expression shifted.
Excitement drained.
Uncertainty replaced it.
"I don't understand, sir."
She adjusted her glasses, like clarity could be found in lenses.
"If it means getting your hands dirty, do it," I said coldly. "If it means seducing someone close to him, do it. If it means degrading yourself to gain access…"
I leaned back in my chair.
"Do it."
I didn't care about her dignity.
I cared about victory.
She opened her mouth to protest.
Then she saw my eyes.
They had gone Antarctica cold.
No warmth.
No humanity.
Just intent.
She swallowed and nodded.
Her hand wrapped around the doorknob.
"And Eva?"
She paused. Looked back at me.
"Sir?"
"You know what will happen if you don't succeed, right? You know what I'm capable of."
I didn't need to describe it.
She had seen enough.
Her throat moved as she swallowed fear.
"Yes, sir."
She exited quickly.
The door clicked shut.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.
Christian thought he was untouchable.
Thought he had slipped from my fingers.
But I wasn't chasing him anymore.
I was burrowing under his empire.
And when it collapses…
He won't see me coming.
(I'D REALLY LOVE TO KNOW HOW YOU'RE LIKING THE BOOK..ANYTHING I NEED TO IMPROVE? ANY SUGGESTIONS OR COMMENTS WOULD REALLY HELP!
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