The war room pulsed with low voices and tense bodies. Maps were spread across the long oak table, red pins marking hostile territories. Donata Russo’s broadcast was still replaying on the large screen in the corner, looping her cold declaration of rebellion like a threat.
Adrian stood at the head of the table, shoulders squared, eyes scanning the room.
Luca, Matteo, Zora, and a few trusted underbosses waited for him to speak. But his eyes drifted toward the door where Valentina entered.....pale, trembling, and resolute.
She should’ve been in bed.
But she was Valentina De Luca. A crown carved from fire, a woman raised in shadows and sharpened by grief.
And she was still standing.
“Naples is no longer neutral,” Adrian began, his voice cutting through the tension. “Donata Russo has decl
