The night before war was the quietest.
Hayden sat alone in the dark chapel of the Florence villa, the same place his mother's portrait hung behind stained glass. He hadn't stepped inside in years. Faith had left him long ago—burned out of him on the night she died. But now, something brought him back. Maybe her voice. Maybe Ana's.
Maybe the need to become something *worse* than his father.
He lit a candle.
Then another.
Then another.
Until the altar was drowning in flickering light.
"This is on you," he whispered, voice low and ragged. "You started it. But I'll finish it."
Behind him, the heavy doors creaked open.
Dom stepped in, dressed in tactical black. No questions. No words.
"We're ready," he said.
Hayden stood slowly, his suit already tailored for war: Kevlar beneath custom black, a pistol holstered beneath his jacket, a knife strapped to his side.
"How many did we get?"
"Twenty-five men. All loyal to you. Some from Milan. Some from Berlin. All waiting outside Rome."
"Good."
Dom hesitated. "You know what this means, don't you? Going after Enzo—he won't just fight back. He'll burn every city you ever touched."
Hayden's expression didn't change.
"I hope he does."
---
The convoy moved at midnight.
Five black cars, unmarked. Windows tinted. Weapons locked and loaded.
They stopped ten miles outside Rome, hidden in the woods near the estate.
Hayden stepped out, adjusting his gloves.
The Moretti compound loomed in the distance like a fortress, surrounded by high walls, floodlights, and towers. Enzo had built it like a prison—because that's what he believed power was. Concrete. Metal. Fear.
Hayden believed differently.
He believed in blood.
---
Meanwhile, inside the compound, Ana wasn't breaking.
They had tried fear. They had tried silence. They had even tried offering her escape in exchange for Hayden's location.
But she just laughed.
"I lived with him," she told one of the guards. "You think *you* scare me?"
The man had stormed out, slamming the cell door shut behind him.
But now, Enzo was coming back.
She could hear his steps.
Measured. Controlled.
The door opened, and the old man stepped in with a glass of red wine, swirling it as if he had all the time in the world.
"You're stubborn."
"You're old."
He chuckled. "He'll come. You know that, don't you?"
"I'm counting on it."
"You think he'll save you?" Enzo said, voice soft. "You don't know him like I do. You've seen his heart. I've seen what he becomes when he bleeds. There won't be anything left of him after tonight."
Ana leaned forward, chains rattling.
"If he burns, I burn with him."
For the first time, Enzo's face changed. Just a flicker. A crease in the armor.
Then he turned away.
"Make sure she's dressed for the execution," he told the guards. "My son should see what he's fighting for."
---
Outside the walls, Hayden watched the compound through binoculars.
He could see the towers. The guards. The electric fences.
But none of it mattered.
He turned to Dom. "We go in quiet. But if they see us... we go loud."
"You sure you want to do this?"
Hayden smiled, wolf-like.
"She's mine."
---
As the team moved through the trees like shadows, a storm cracked open above Rome.
Rain poured.
Thunder rolled.
But Hayden never looked up. His eyes were only on one thing.
Ana.
And the man who dared to take her.