The world burned around her.
Flames licked the edges of shipping containers, smoke rolling thick through the air, thunder cracking above as if the sky itself had been torn apart. The yard that only moments ago had been filled with Romano's laughter was now a battlefield of screams and confusion.
Aria crouched low, gun tight in her hands, her body pressed against Luca's as bullets ripped the night. Her chest rose and fell in frantic bursts, but her arms shielded him all the same. He was barely conscious, his blood soaking through her dress, his breaths shallow and ragged.
"Stay with me," she whispered, her lips trembling against his temple. "Luca, please. Don't leave me."
His eyelids fluttered. A sound escaped him, rough, broken, but hers. "Aria…"
She pressed her forehead to his, fighting back tears. "I'm here. I won't let them take you. I swear it."
Gunfire cracked close, forcing her to jerk her head up. Romano's soldiers stumbled through the smoke, disoriented, shouting orders that were drowned out by the roar of new weapons. The dark-coated figures moved like shadows, cutting through Romano's men with terrifying precision.
One after another, Romano's soldiers fell. Some dropped their guns and ran into the storm, swallowed by the night.
Romano himself stood at the center, his rage burning even brighter than the fire around him. His arm bled from where Aria's bullet had grazed him, but he didn't slow. He raised his voice, commanding what was left of his men.
"Hold the line! Kill them all! I don't care who they are!"
But even he could see it, the tide had turned. His army was breaking, his control slipping.
Aria's pulse thundered. She should have felt relief. Romano was losing. The man who had haunted their lives, who had taken her twins, was being forced back. But she couldn't celebrate. Not yet.
Because she didn't know who the new army was.
And they were coming closer.
Enzo dragged himself through the mud toward them, one arm hanging limp, his shirt torn and bloody. He fell to his knees beside Aria and Luca, his face pale but determined.
"Boss..." His voice cracked. He glanced at Luca's wounds, horror flashing in his eyes. "He's bad. Real bad."
Aria nodded, her throat tight. "We need to move him. Get him out."
"Out where?" Enzo snapped, coughing hard. "We don't even know who the hell these people are."
Aria looked over his shoulder at the figures cutting down Romano's men. They weren't De Rossi. Their formation was too precise, their gear too uniform. Whoever they were, they weren't street soldiers. They were trained. Professional.
Her stomach twisted.
Romano cursed loud, firing into the smoke, then shouted for retreat. His men hesitated, but when another explosion rattled the yard, they broke. One by one, they scattered, some climbing over fences, some vanishing into the storm.
Romano's glare burned even as he backed away. His eyes locked on Aria. On Luca. On them together in the mud.
He jabbed a finger at her, his voice carrying through the chaos like thunder. "This isn't over. You're mine, Aria. Both of you will burn with me before it ends."
Then he turned, vanishing into the smoke with the few men who still obeyed him.
The yard went eerily quiet, only the crackle of fire and the groans of the dying filling the night.
Aria's heart pounded. Romano was gone..., for now. But the storm wasn't over.
Because the shadows were still coming.
The dark-coated soldiers moved with eerie silence, their boots splashing in the mud as they advanced. A dozen of them formed a half-circle, rifles raised, boxing Aria, Luca, and Enzo into the center.
Enzo cursed under his breath, dragging his pistol up with his good hand. "Stay behind me."
Aria shook her head, tightening her grip on her gun. "No. I won't hide."
Luca stirred weakly, his voice little more than a rasp. "Aria… run…"
Her throat broke. "I'm not leaving you."
The soldiers stopped, rifles still trained. And then, from behind their line, a taller figure emerged through the smoke.
He didn't rush. He didn't need to. The storm seemed to bend around him, as though even the fire and rain gave him room.
Aria's breath caught.
He wore no mask. His coat was long and black, his gloves bloodless despite the carnage. His hair was slick from the rain, his jaw sharp, his eyes cold steel that scanned the yard with quiet ownership.
Every step he took made the soldiers straighten, as if gravity itself bowed to him.
Enzo hissed low under his breath, recognition flashing in his gaze. "No. No, it can't be…"
Aria turned sharply. "Who is he?"
Enzo didn't answer, his face pale, his grip on the gun trembling.
The man stopped just a few feet from her. His gaze moved over Luca bleeding in the mud, then to her, soaked and trembling but standing tall, her gun raised.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he removed one glove and extended his bare hand toward her.
"Aria," he said, his voice deep, smooth, commanding. "It's been a long time."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She didn't know him. Not his face. Not his voice. But he spoke her name like he owned it.
Her fingers tightened on the gun. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp even though her knees shook.
His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Someone who's been waiting for you."
The soldiers behind him shifted, rifles lowering slightly at his signal.
Aria's pulse raced. The air between them felt heavier than the storm, thicker than the smoke.
Luca tried to lift his head, his eyes straining to focus. When they locked on the man, a flicker of raw fear flashed in his gaze, fear deeper than any Romano had ever drawn from him.
His lips parted. He forced the word out, broken and hoarse. "Him."
Aria turned back to the stranger, her chest tightening. "What do you want?"
The man's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "The same thing Romano wants. But unlike him, I don't play games. I don't send messages. I take what belongs to me."
He looked at Luca, bleeding into her arms.
Then at her.
And in that moment, she knew.
He wasn't here for Luca.
He was here for her.