The tires of a second, unmarked black sedan screech to a halt at the mouth of the alley, smoke billowing from the wheel wells. The door flies open before the vehicle even fully stops, and Leo is behind the wheel, his face a grim mask of pure adrenaline.
"Get in! Get in!" Leo shouts over the revving engine.
Dante shoves me into the backseat first, his massive frame instantly following, slamming the heavy door shut behind us. The sedan tears away from the curb, fish-tailing slightly on the slick pavement before roaring down the block, leaving the shattered glass of my family’s bakery and the bodies of the Lucchesi soldiers far behind.
The cabin is silent except for the frantic, heavy sound of our breathing. I collapse against the leather seat, staring down at my hands. They are scraped raw, covered in a sickening mixture of white flour, black soot, and a smear of dark crimson from the alleyway wall.
Dante doesn't look at his own ruined clothes. He sits forward, throwing the heavy, blood-splattered leather ledger onto the console between the front seats.
"Leo, call the estate," Dante orders, his baritone a cold, flat line of authority that makes the air in the car turn to ice. "Tell them to lock down the perimeter. No one goes out, no one comes in. If a bird flies over the gates, shoot it down."
"Already done, boss," Leo says, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "But the Commission... they just moved the meeting up. They aren't waiting for tomorrow. They’re gathering at the High-Rise Club downtown in one hour. Lucchesi is already there with the other bosses. They think you're still hunting for the ledger."
A low, terrifying purr vibrates in Dante's chest. He leans back against the seat, a dark, predatory satisfaction settling into the sharp lines of his face. He reaches out, his large, calloused hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the tight muscle there to anchor me to him.
"They think I'm defensive," Dante murmurs, his amber eyes burning down into mine with a fierce, lethal intensity that leaves me breathless. "They think I'm trying to protect what I have. They don't realize I’ve already won the war."
"Dante," I whisper, my voice shaking as the adrenaline begins to fade, leaving my body trembling. "You're going to walk straight into a room with the heads of every family in the city? With that book?"
"I'm not walking in to negotiate, Gianna," he says, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticks beneath his tanned skin. He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down my spine. "I'm walking in to execute them. And you're going to watch me take the city."
He pulls back, his gaze dropping to the diamond ring on my left hand, still bright and unbroken beneath the layer of flour dust. He takes my hand, his thumb rubbing a clean circle into my skin, erasing the dust until the stone catches the dim light of the tinted windows.
"Marco didn't die for a bakery," Dante whispers, his voice dropping into that razor-sharp register of pure command. "He died for the Marchetti empire. Today, we burn the old guard, little baker. And we build a new throne out of the ashes.”