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My men gathered around me in a semicircle, their faces streaked with dirt and blood, but their eyes—dio, their eyes shone with something I hadn’t seen in weeks. Hope. Pride. Belief. The firelight from the burning wreckage cast dancing shadows across their features, transforming them into ancient warriors awaiting words from their commander.

I swallowed hard and lifted my chin. “Tonight, the Moretti name reclaims its place in history,” I called out, my voice carrying across the field. Mercifully, the shake and tremors were absent. “What you’ve done here—what we’ve accomplished together—proves that our famiglia isn’t just surviving. We’re rising. Every one of you fought with the courage of ten men. Bonetti will remember this night as the beginning of his end.”

A cheer erupted from their throats, raw and primal. They pumped their fists in the air, clapping each other on the shoulders.

I smiled weakly and headed to a bush, pretending to look at the wreckage that had been flung that way.

Bile spewed from my gut.

The bitter taste lingered in my mouth as I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. I should have felt triumphant. This was a victory—the kind that would send ripples through theunderworld and make Bonetti quake. My captains, and their soldiers, were celebrating, their voices carrying through the night.

But all I felt was hollow.

Three of my men would never go home again. Three families would receive the news that their sons, brothers, and husbands had died for the Moretti name.

I stared at my hands in the moonlight. They weren’t physically stained, but I could feel the weight of blood on them, nonetheless.

This was the unspoken price of leadership. There was no place for feeling. That was weakness. Yet if this was strength, I didn’t know how I would survive.

Chapter 46 – Jaxon

Within the space of five days, the Moretti soldiers turned a piece of commercial real estate into a sleek, modern mansion. It was a palace fit for a queen, and she oversaw every detail.

The façade, elegant yet understated, gave little indication of what lay within. Brand new wood flooring stretched through the foyer, reflecting light from chandeliers that hung like frozen raindrops from vaulted ceilings. The main hall opened to a sweeping staircase, its wrought iron banister coiling upward like a serpent.

But beauty was merely the veneer. The windows—bulletproof and one-way—allowed her to see out while keeping prying eyes blind to her movements. The walls, reinforced with steel and soundproofed, could withstand anything short of military-grade explosives.

Cameras covered every angle, their feeds monitored in a control room hidden behind the library’s false wall. Three of her most trusted soldiers rotated shifts there, watching digital screens displaying the property’s perimeter.

It was a good start.

I added a few details of my own.

Motion sensors were spread across the perimeter. They also guarded her bedroom. While the hive of Made Men bustled to make the fortress livable and functional, I kept the monitors turned off. But at night, while I kept watch over my precious treasure, they let me know who moved where.

There were key places where booby traps would work wonders against an attack, but I didn’t dare install those for fear of her men tripping them accidentally.

And so, another week of hell passed.

Every night, my short visits to her room were sheer torture. I wanted to cross her bedroom and take the slumbering form in my arms.

Isabella had come into her own.

Move after move on the chessboard of war swept the victory closer to her hand. Strategic hits crippled her opposition. The enemy’s counter moves didn’t touch her, and few of her soldiers perished.

But I knew she felt every death keenly.

By the time the moon hung full and heavy on the horizon, she began to pace. Two nights in a row, she took long walks around her warehouse-mansion before the war dogs were let loose on the property to roam through the dark.

Tonight was no exception.

Isabella, draped in a trench coat despite the warm evening air, wandered about the property after her nightly check. I lingered in the slim shadows of the newly planted trees. She stopped under a floodlight and swept a lingering look over the property.

Go inside!

I wanted to shout at her.

Out here, she was an easy target. If I, with my limited computer skills, could hack into the camera feeds to disguise my movements, then she was still vulnerable.