epilogue

Epilogue

The Bellucci estate had burned to the ground weeks ago, but the scent of smoke still lingered in Alessandro's dreams. Each night he would wake, breathless, remembering the roar of flames, the final gunshots, and Vittorio's dying words: You've already lost.

But by day, the city was quieter than it had been in years. Newspaper headlines praised the fall of the Marcone and Bellucci families. The FBI made arrests by the dozens. Neighborhoods that had lived under the shadow of violence for decades began to breathe again.

Alessandro and Rachel found a fragile peace in those weeks. They took quiet walks along the river. Cooked together. Even talked about what life might look like if they ever left the city behind.

But peace, he knew, was a delicate thing.

One evening, as rain tapped softly at the penthouse windows, Rachel stepped onto the balcony with a worried look. She handed him a folded piece of paper—an FBI intelligence report slipped to her by a trusted contact.

He read the first line, and his chest went cold:

Coordinated assassinations of former Marcone and Bellucci associates reported in Naples, Barcelona, and Buenos Aires. Pattern suggests organized effort. Possible emergence of new syndicate: codename "The Consortium."

Alessandro lowered the paper, eyes fixed on the storm rolling in across the city skyline. A storm that felt like it was coming for him.

Rachel slipped her hand into his, her voice low but strong. "Do you think it's really over?"

He didn't answer right away. The wind carried the scent of rain—clean, but heavy with warning.

"No," he said at last, voice hardening. "But when it comes… we'll be ready."

Far below, the city lights flickered in the dark, and in those restless shadows, something was already stirring.