Chapter 1 The Crimson Escape

Raven Moretti

Naples looked like a city holding its breath.

Fog clung to the narrow streets like a rumor too thick to ignore. The cathedral tower rose like a blade through the haze-beautiful, ancient, and sharpened by secrets. The black cars lined up outside its rusted gates told a story louder than church bells. I knew every name inside.

And I hated every one of them.

"Fix your dress, Raven," my father said without looking at me. "You only get one chance to make a first impression. Or a final one."

His voice was low and cold, like the morning air. He was dressed in obsidian-tailored to perfection, his ring glinting like a war medal. Don Luca Moretti, last true king of Naples. My father. And possibly the next corpse.

I adjusted the slit in my black dress. High enough to distract. Tight enough to command. My pistol's weight against my thigh was more comforting than his presence.

"Tell me again," I said. "Why am I here?"

"Because if I die tonight, they'll come for you next."

Lovely. Truly, the hallmark of healthy parenting.

He turned to face me, eyes cold but honest. "These men inside want peace. But peace in our world always tastes like blood."

We entered the cathedral through the side entrance. Marble saints watched from above as I walked down a blood-red carpet laid over a thousand-year-old floor. The altar had been cleared for the five families. Where there should've been a priest, there sat criminals.

And in the front row: the four heirs.

Theron Valente, the bastard strategist with a mouth that spoke death like poetry. Aemrys Corvini, the brute enforcer who wore violence like cologne. Kael Nox, the ghost-eyed sniper who didn't speak-but always saw. And Silas Vescari, the charming devil who'd probably flirt with your corpse.

I'd heard stories. Now I had faces. All of them watched me like I was the next move in a game I didn't agree to play.

My heels clicked like gunshots as I followed my father down the aisle. The heads of the families sat at opposite sides, like a wedding from hell. I was the daughter of the last Don still holding out from a complete pact.

Tonight was meant to seal peace. To end vendettas.

So naturally, someone brought a gun.

It happened fast-too fast. My father stood at the altar, making a final plea, when a flash of silver moved in the rafters.

A single shot.

His skull split like a wine glass. Blood sprayed the altar. Silence followed the echo of the shot, thick and stunned.

Then the screaming began.

Someone pulled me down. I hit the floor, knees bruising on marble, the scent of gunpowder and incense making my eyes burn. I reached for my thigh-my gun already drawn. Around me, chaos reigned. The families ducked behind pews. Guards swarmed the exits.

But not the four heirs.

They stood calmly in the crossfire.

Theron was already giving orders. Aemrys cracked his knuckles, smiling like this was foreplay. Kael had vanished. And Silas-Silas was watching me.

He winked.

Asshole.

I crawled toward my father. His body lay limp, eyes open. Mouth agape. He died mid-sentence, mid-deal, mid-life. My hands trembled as I touched his shoulder, as if I could shake him back.

Someone yanked me up.

"Time to go, pretty thing."

Aemrys.

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

He smirked. "Still breathing. That's rare in this room."

He pulled me behind a shattered column as bullets danced through the cathedral. I looked around for Kael, but he was already in the rafters, returning fire like an avenging shadow.

I screamed as a bullet skimmed my arm. Heat and pain bloomed. Blood ran down my silk.

Silas appeared beside me, grinning like we were at a cocktail party.

"First time at a massacre?" he asked.

I almost shot him.

Instead, I glared. "Who killed him?"

"No idea."

"Bullshit."

"Likely. But charming, no?"

Theron shoved his way toward us, face like ice. "We need to extract her now. The pact won't hold with Moretti dead. And someone made sure of it."

I stared at all of them. "You think this is about me?"

Theron looked at me like I was stupid. "It's always about you now, Moretti. You're the only blood left."

Panic and rage warred inside me. My father was dead. My city on fire. And these four lunatics were circling me like wolves debating which part to bite first.

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not part of your little kingdom."

Silas chuckled. "Oh, princess. You already were. You just didn't read the fine print."

Kael landed beside me like a ghost. His eyes met mine. Cold. Beautiful. Sharp.

He held out a bloodstained hand.

And in it-

My father's ring.

Not just any ring. The Moretti signet. Passed only when death demanded succession.

I stared at it like it might bite.

Theron nodded toward it. "Put it on, Raven. Or they'll bury you with him."

Somewhere behind me, another gun fired. Closer.

I grabbed the ring. Slid it on.

It was still warm.

And just like that-I became a bride to war.

We escaped through the catacombs beneath the cathedral. Aemrys led, pistol ready. Theron barked orders into a radio. Kael moved silently beside me. Silas joked to keep us sane.

No one asked me if I wanted to live.

At the next junction, we split.

Theron grabbed my wrist. "You'll come with us. Until the blood pact is sealed."

"What blood pact?"

He glanced at the ring on my hand. "The one your father signed. Binding you to us. Four families. One heir. And you."

My voice cracked. "You mean... I'm property now?"

"No," Silas said, "You're the throne."

I laughed. It sounded hysterical.

And when I stopped laughing, I whispered the only thing I had left:

"I didn't choose the pact. But I will make every man who signed it mine-"

I looked at each of them, my voice dripping venom.

"-or bury them with my father."