Chapter 21

The world was still spinning.

The scent of blood, gunpowder, and sweat hung in the air, mixing with the cold night breeze. Dante's body lay crumpled on the rooftop, his lifeless eyes staring at the stars.

But Valentina and Lorenzo didn't care.

Because right now, they weren't thinking about war.

They weren't thinking about what came next.

They were consumed by something darker. Something raw.

Something that had been simmering between them for years and had finally, violently, exploded.

And neither of them wanted to stop it.

---

No Turning Back

Lorenzo's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her bruised skin as he crushed her against the rooftop railing. His breath was ragged, his pulse wild against her own.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" His voice was a low snarl, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "The danger. The blood. The fact that you just executed a man in cold fucking blood."

Valentina's nails raked down his arms, her chest rising and falling against his. "You think you're any different?"

His dark laugh sent shivers through her. "No, Rossi. That's why we belong together."

Then his mouth was on hers—hot, bruising, relentless.

She gasped as he lifted her, forcing her thighs around his waist. The cold steel of the railing pressed into her back, but the only thing she felt was him.

Heat. Strength. Violence wrapped in desire.

His hands roamed beneath her shirt, rough palms against heated skin, tracing the evidence of battle—the bruises, the cuts, the reminders that they had survived. Together.

And fuck, it made her want him even more.

"You're bleeding," he murmured against her lips, his fingers grazing the torn skin on her side.

"So are you," she shot back, tugging his hair hard enough to make him groan.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark with something primal. "Tell me to stop."

She smiled—sharp, wicked. "Don't you fucking dare."

That was all it took.

Lorenzo's control snapped.

His teeth scraped against her neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark—his mark. A claim.

Valentina arched against him, her head falling back against the railing, a breathless laugh escaping her lips. "Possessive bastard."

His grip on her hips tightened. "Always."

---

The Edge of Ruin

They shouldn't be doing this.

Not here. Not now.

Dante's blood hadn't even cooled. The city was still burning. Their enemies were regrouping, plotting their next move.

But none of it mattered.

Not when she was pressed against him like this. Not when his hands were mapping every inch of her body with a desperate kind of hunger, like he had to commit her to memory in case this was the last time.

And maybe it was.

Maybe they would be dead by morning.

But tonight—

Tonight, they burned.

The rooftop railing rattled beneath them as Lorenzo moved, his breath hot against her throat, his voice raw with need. "Say it, Rossi."

Valentina's nails dragged down his back, her lips brushing against his ear. "I'm yours."

He growled, his body tensing. "Damn right you are."

And then there was nothing but fire.

---

The high didn't last forever.

It never did.

The rush of battle, the heat of passion—it all faded, leaving behind the brutal reality of who they were.

Killers. Leaders. Enemies of the world.

Valentina exhaled, still caged between Lorenzo's arms, the cold metal of the railing pressing against her bare skin.

His fingers traced lazy circles on her thigh, but his eyes—his fucking eyes—were sharp again, calculating.

"The city will know by morning," he murmured, his voice quieter now. "Dante is dead. We'll be the ones they come for next."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Let them come."

His lips curled into something wicked. "Bloodthirsty little queen."

She smirked. "Took you long enough to notice."

But something else flickered in his gaze. Something unreadable.

For the first time, he looked almost... wary.

Like he had just realized how dangerous she really was.

And how much he fucking liked it.

---

The distant wail of sirens broke the silence.

Lorenzo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We should go before the cops get here."

Valentina pulled her torn shirt back over her shoulder, casting one last glance at Dante's body. "What do we do next?"

Lorenzo's smirk returned, sharp as a blade. "We take everything."

And just like that, the war truly began.