The city breathed smoke and steel, and Bella could feel it deep in her chest. The morning light was soft and pale, but it did nothing to calm the tension that wrapped the estate like barbed wire. Every shadow seemed to twitch with possibility, every sound was a promise of blood.Crystal moved first, pacing along the shattered marble steps, boots crunching glass. "We need to anticipate their next move," he said, voice low, clipped, dangerous. "Russo isn't done. He never is."
Christian remained near the threshold, hands clenched, eyes scanning the perimeter like a predator who had learned to distrust every corner. "We're exposed. Our men are bleeding, Bella. Even if the ledger keeps us one step ahead, it won't stop what's coming."
Bella looked down at the scorched yard, at men she'd once called allies now sprawled and broken. She felt no sorrow. Only calculation. Loss is currency, she thought, and I've just begun spending it.
A hum vibrated in the distance. Bella squinted. A convoy of black SUVs cut through the morning mist, engines low but deliberate. Mercenaries, professional and clean, moving like a shadow wave. No hesitation. No fear. Just orders. Anthony's laugh came again from the shadows below. "I see you're thinking too small, my dear." He leaned against the wrought-iron rail, a silhouette of smug control. "The game is bigger than the ledger, bigger than the Abaddons. You think you've cleared your path? They'll carve a new one for you."
Bella's eyes narrowed. "Let them carve," she said.
Crystal stepped closer, brushing her hand ever so slightly as if to remind her she wasn't alone the contact fleeting, intimate, electric. "You shouldn't—"
"I don't need your permission," Bella cut him off, voice sharp as a knife. She turned to the horizon where the SUVs crawled forward, a creeping storm of black metal and intent. "I need strategy. And fire."
Christian's jaw tightened. "Then we fight. But not just for the ledger. For survival. For her." His eyes, raw and unyielding, met Bella's with a heat that burned hotter than any gunfire. "Do you understand?"
Bella did. Better than anyone. The war had shifted from politics and contracts to instincts and vengeance. Every glance, every choice, every step was a battle line. She was no longer the prize. She was the storm.
From the north, a siren screamed, slicing the morning air. The city was waking, but it was waking to fear. Bella turned to see the estate gates being reinforced with whatever heavy machinery and abandoned cars the crew could salvage. Men moved silently, efficiently. She could feel the pulse of readiness, the rhythm of violence rehearsed. Anthony's eyes glimmered with something dangerously approving, amusement, maybe even pride. "You've grown, Bella," he said, almost softly. "I never expected this from a girl who once hid behind walls."
Bella smiled, small and sharp — a blade hidden in silk. "I stopped hiding," she said. "Now I choose who stands beside me… and who falls."
The convoy hit the estate's outer perimeter just as Bella whispered, "Let the war begin."
Bullets screamed. Glass shattered. Men dove. Flames licked the edges of black SUVs. And Bella, standing atop the steps with Crystal and Christian flanking her, let the world feel her fire. Because in the war to come, there would be no pawns. Only players and Bella intended to write the rules.
The first wave hit like a tidal wave of black steel and gunfire. Bullets rattled off the gates, shattering reinforced panels. Men screamed as smoke and dust filled the air. Bella's pulse didn't spike her eyes glimmered with the thrill of control.
Crystal and Christian moved like extensions of her will. Crystal tore through the attackers on the east flank, every strike calculated, brutal, precise. Christian covered the main gate, dragging men out of the line of fire while returning shots with deadly accuracy.
Bella's hands were steady on the rifle, scanning the advancing shadows. She wasn't just defending herself; she was dictating the battlefield. Every shot was a message: Come closer, and you will burn.
A helicopter loomed over the estate, descending fast, ropes slamming against the north lawn. Bella recognized the insignia Russo's private army. She smirked. "Really? That's the best you've got?"
Anthony stepped closer, watching from his perch as if he'd choreographed the chaos himself. "They'll adapt," he said, voice low and teasing. "And so will you."
Bella didn't answer. She aimed, fired. One man went down, then another. A mercenary screamed, rolling behind a barricade as Crystal vaulted over the railing, knife drawn. The clash was ballet and blood precise and feral.
Christian barked orders, his voice slicing through the cacophony: "Hold the north! Bella, take the east flank! Men cover the perimeter!"
Smoke rose from overturned cars, the scent of burning rubber mixing with blood. Men moved like shadows, disappearing only to strike again. Bella felt the heat in her chest not fear, but the raw rush of survival.
Then she saw him — a man moving with silent efficiency, cutting through her line, eyes locked on her. A hunter.
Bella's breath caught for a fraction of a second, but she didn't hesitate. She fired. He fell, but not before a smirk crossed his face, daring her to come closer.
Crystal growled beside her, sensing the challenge. "She's mine," he spat, launching himself into the fray. Bullets sprayed, bodies collided. Bella watched him move with lethal elegance. She didn't need protection, but damn if it wasn't beautiful to see.
Christian appeared beside her, scanning the chaos with hawk-like precision. His hand brushed hers briefly as he handed her ammo — just a touch, fleeting but deliberate. His eyes lingered longer than they should have.
"Bella, inside. Now," he urged, seeing reinforcements approaching from the rear.
Bella shook her head. "Not yet. Let them learn what it means to touch me."
And as the second wave of mercenaries struck, Bella, Crystal, and Christian became the storm incarnate. Guns roared, men fell, glass shattered, and the estate became a furnace of violence.
Every breath, every heartbeat, every movement was a declaration. Bella was no longer a piece on the board. She was the queen. And queens didn't run they commanded.
Through the chaos, Christian's hand brushed hers again intentional this time. His grip lingered on her wrist, grounding her in the storm. "You don't have to fight alone," he whispered, voice low, almost intimate amid the gunfire.
She glanced at him, then at Crystal, whose eyes flashed possessive fire. Desire and danger tangled like smoke in the air. Her chest tightened. She had two men two forces she could not tame and yet the thrill of their chaos only made her pulse faster.
The sun rose higher, illuminating the burning estate. For the first time in months, Bella felt completely alive.
War wasn't just coming it was here. And she would stand in the center of it, storm and queen alike.