Marco Silva had followed Dominic Wolfe for a decade. He had seen him break men with his bare hands, silence entire rooms with a look, and turn enemies into corpses without hesitation. To Marco, loyalty had always been simple—Wolfe commanded, he obeyed.
But tonight, watching his boss pace the study like a caged animal, Marco felt the first crack in that certainty.
"She's in danger again," Dominic muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His coat lay discarded on the chair, his shirt darkened with rain and blood. "And the city knows it. Ricci won't stop. Neither will Duval."
Marco leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He had heard enough whispers to know the rumors were true: Wolfe was slipping. The man who once ruled with iron detachment now bled openly for a woman tied to the Moretti name.
"Boss," Marco said carefully, "the men are asking questions. They're loyal, but… they're nervous. Protecting the Moretti girl—it paints a target on all of us."
Dominic stilled, his back rigid. Slowly, he turned, his gaze sharp as broken glass. "Are you questioning me, Marco?"
The weight of his stare pressed like a blade, but Marco didn't flinch. "I'm warning you. Ricci smells weakness. Duval's moving pieces in the dark. If we bleed for her, they'll bleed us dry."
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Dominic exhaled, the fire in his eyes dimming just slightly.
"She's not weakness," he said, softer now. "She's the one thing keeping me from turning into them."
Marco studied him. This wasn't the Wolfe he had followed for ten years. This was a man torn in two—between the ruthless leader the city feared and the reckless lover the city would exploit.
And Marco, loyal as he was, knew what happened when leaders faltered. The city devoured them whole.
When Dominic dismissed him with a curt nod, Marco left the study, but unease gnawed at his chest. In the hallway, he pulled out his phone, fingers hesitating before typing a single message.
She's here. Wolfe won't let her go.
He hit send. The reply came seconds later.
Good. Keep watching.
Marco slid the phone back into his pocket, the weight of betrayal settling in his bones. He told himself it was for survival—that Wolfe's war for Adair would drag them all into ruin. But in the back of his mind, he knew the truth:
The moment Wolfe chose love over power, the city began to fracture.