Chapter Twelve: Blood Debts

The warehouse reeked of oil, sweat, and gunpowder—Ronnie's new kingdom in the shadow of her father's grave. A month had passed since the Moretti estate burned, and every moment since had been a war drum.

Ronnie stood above a spread of maps and manifests, her black nails tapping in rhythm on the steel table. She wasn't dressed like the daughter of a king anymore. She wore a combat vest, boots, and no makeup. Her crown was gone. What remained was iron.

Mia entered, blood on her sleeve and a phone in her hand.

"Word from the docks," she said. "The Irish are in."

Ronnie didn't look up. "Seamus?"

"He brought twenty men. And a priest."

Ronnie almost smirked. "Of course he did."

The docks were lit with torches and tension. Ronnie met Seamus beside a crate stamped with Portuguese sigils. His men were drinking and loading rifles. His priest was baptizing bullets.

"You're late," she said.

"I'm Irish," he replied. "We arrive when it matters."

She handed him a file—Valentina's known ports, offshore accounts, and the location of a weapons depot in Queens.

"You get first pick of the spoils. But the killing? That's mine."

He raised an eyebrow. "You still bleeding over that boy?"

Ronnie's eyes went dead.

"I bled for him once. Now I bleed through him."

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Scene: The Mole

Back at Red Hook, Cass and Luca combed through hours of internal surveillance. A glitch. A timestamp jump. A familiar face.

Cass froze the screen.

"That's Mia."

Luca looked over her shoulder. "You sure?"

"She entered the vault twenty minutes before the blast. Alone."

They exchanged a look.

"We tell her together," Cass said.

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Flashback: The Wedding

In a rare moment of calm, Ronnie sat in the back office of the warehouse and found herself thumbing through an old photo—her and Tommy, wrapped in sheets, laughing over cheap whiskey in Florence. The memory burned.

She remembered his vow: "If I ever betray you, make it quick. Don't let me linger."

She hadn't decided yet if she would honor that.

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Scene: Tommy's Warning

Tommy met Valentina on a private island—her last untouchable haven. He was dressed sharp, but his eyes were ragged.

"She's aligning with old families," he said. "She's going to break through your south line within the week."

Valentina blew smoke across his cheek.

"She's chasing ghosts. I have satellites."

"You also have a target on your head."

She smiled. "So do you, darling."

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Scene: Ronnie Learns the Truth

Mia stood against the wall, arms crossed. Cass and Luca had told her. Now they all waited for Ronnie.

She entered like a storm, eyes unreadable.

"Why?" she asked.

Mia didn't deny it. "They had my brother. I thought I could control it. Delay it. Keep you alive."

"You let them kill my family."

Mia stepped forward. "I saved you. That bomb was meant for you, not your father."

Ronnie trembled.

"I trusted you. You were my family."

"I still am."

"No. You're a lesson."

---

Execution Scene

Ronnie didn't make it public. No spectacle. She simply walked Mia into the back room, handed her a glass of vodka, and shot her in the heart.

One clean shot. No cruelty. No forgiveness.

She walked out, wiping her hands.

To Luca, she said, "Burn the body. No ashes left."

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Valentina's Trap

Meanwhile, Valentina hosted a masquerade at the waterfront casino in Atlantic City. Everyone who mattered was there.

Tommy arrived late, dressed in black silk, face masked in silver.

Valentina pulled him into a side room.

"She'll strike tonight," she whispered.

Tommy's jaw clenched. "You invited her?"

"I dared her."

Outside, across the bay, Ronnie watched from a sniper's nest, wind cutting across her cheek. She had a rifle trained on Valentina's balcony.

And Tommy stepped into the crosshairs.

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Cliffhanger Ending

She didn't pull the trigger.

But someone else did.

A shot rang out. Screams below.

Valentina ducked.

Tommy hit the ground.

Ronnie's breath caught as blood pooled on his shirt.

But it wasn't hers.

A second figure stood behind him—masked, with the same rifle model as hers.

"Who the hell—" she whispered.

Cass's voice crackled in her earpiece: "Ronnie... that's your rifle. From Red Hook."

Double-cross.

Sabotage.

And for the first time since the war began… Ronnie hesitated.

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To be continued in Chapter Thirteen: Vows of Fire