1:07 a.m. – Palermo, Sicily
The fire in the hearth crackled, casting shadows that danced across the bare, honey-slicked skin of Raina Vega. She sat on the velvet chaise like a forgotten goddess spine straight, one leg draped over the other, her robe hanging loose but defiant. The scent of sex hung in the room thick, heady, intoxicating.
Across from her, Lucien Moretti lit a cigar with steady hands. He hadn't spoken since he'd wrung three orgasms from her body with a control that made her want to scream and worship him at once. He was dressed again partially. His black slacks hung low on his hips, the waistband of his holster visible beneath the open white shirt stained slightly with her lipstick.
Raina stared. He exhaled a slow puff of smoke. The silence between them was heavy too heavy for post-coital stillness. It was a silence forged in secrets.
"You're quiet," she said, her voice hoarse. "Cat got your tongue or did you leave it between my legs?"
Lucien turned his head slightly, gaze like sharpened steel. "I don't make small talk with women who don't know what they've walked into."
She rose, robe whispering around her thighs, her glare sharp. "Then enlighten me, Lucien. What the hell have I walked into?"
He didn't blink. "The fire your father tried to outrun."
Her stomach twisted.
"I saw the cross," she said, stepping forward. "The one hanging on your neck. You traced it after you after you had me."
Lucien's expression hardened.
"Does it mean anything?" she asked. "Or was that part of the performance?"
He stood then, tall, powerful, something barely leashed in his body. He stepped toward her, stopping just inches away. She could feel the warmth from his skin, the scent of sex still clinging to his chest.
"You think this is a game?" he murmured. "You think I'd put my mouth on you, cara mia, if I didn't know what it would cost?"
"Then tell me the truth," she whispered.
Lucien reached into the inner pocket of his coat. He pulled out a folded, aged photograph and handed it to her without a word.
It was old. Grainy. A woman standing in shadow, her silhouette elegant and terrifying. Her fingers rested on a carved wooden throne.
Behind her etched into stone was the symbol Raina had seen only once before, tucked inside a leather diary her father thought she'd never read.
A sun half swallowed by darkness. Los Hijos del Alba. The Sons of the Dawn.
Her father's secret legacy.
"What is this?"
"She's called La Reina di Sangue. The Blood Queen," Lucien said. "She runs the Eastern ports. Controls five major families and two cartels through fear. No one has seen her face in a decade. And if your father had kept his oath, he'd still be alive."
Raina's chest heaved. "You knew him."
"I was ordered to kill him," Lucien said, calmly. "But I didn't."
"Then who did?"
His jaw tightened. "Someone more loyal than me."
Something in his voice cracked.
"Why didn't you?" she asked.
Lucien looked down at her, for once, unguarded.
"Because he saved my life. Once. Long before he broke their code. And I don't kill men who show me mercy. Even in this world, I draw my own lines."
Her lips parted, but before she could speak
His phone rang.
The shrill sound shattered the moment. He stepped away, answering in Sicilian.
"Che cazzo vuoi?"
(What the fck do you want?)
A pause.
His body stilled. His expression turned stone cold.
He ended the call and turned to her. "We need to leave. Now."
"Why?"
Lucien crossed the room and opened the drawer of a mahogany chest. Inside two Glock 19s and a burner phone. He tossed one of each to her.
She caught them with trembling hands.
"There's a bounty on your head," he said. "Five million. U.S."
She froze. "You're joking."
"I don't joke. Especially not when I've just buried two men outside this villa who thought they could collect early."
Raina backed up, heart hammering. "You brought me here to protect me?"
He stalked toward her, his voice low and sharp. "No, amor mio. I brought you here because you're the bait."
Her back hit the wall. "Excuse me?"
He stopped in front of her, hands on either side of her head, caging her in. "If they think they can touch you, they'll come out of the shadows. Every rat. Every coward. Every blood loyalist to the Reina. And when they do " he leaned down, lips brushing her ear, "I burn them."
His words wrapped around her spine like a promise dipped in gasoline.
"But why me?" she asked. "Why are they after me?"
Lucien pulled back, jaw ticking. "Because you're not just your father's daughter. You're something much more dangerous."
"What am I?"
His eyes gleamed. "The one who can end her reign."
And just then gunshots shattered the night outside the villa.
Lucien grabbed her hand. "Time to run."