Chapter 1

The iron gates of the Federal Penitentiary slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Five years.

Two cars were waiting for me outside the gray walls.

One was a flashy red Porsche, leaning against which was the man who had put me here—my former fiancé, Dario Venturelli.

The other was a matte black, bulletproof Lincoln Sentinel, silent and imposing like a beast holding its breath. The back window rolled down slowly, revealing a pair of amused, predatory eyes.

"You're late," Cassian Moretti said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. He smiled at me from the shadows of the car. "Congratulations on finishing your sentence, partner."

Before I could answer, Dario stormed over, his face dark with disbelief and rage. He stared at me, then at the glaringly expensive Lincoln.

"Ravenna, you'd better explain yourself."

His voice carried that familiar, sickening arrogance. He sounded like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. "Who the hell is he? I told you I'd come pick you up. Get in my car."

I didn't even turn my head. I simply curved my lips at Cassian. "There was some traffic at the release processing. It cost me a few minutes."

Cassian didn't mind. He stepped out of the car and opened the rear door for me. His movements were gentlemanly, but detached—the kind of dangerous grace a predator shows before it strikes.

"I've waited for five years," he said lightly, ignoring Dario completely. "A few minutes won't kill me."

The familiarity and intimacy in his voice hit Dario like a slap in the face.

Dario lunged forward and grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. "Ravenna! I'm talking to you! Where did you meet this shady person? Get back to the estate. Don't forget who you are—you are a Venturelli by association!"

I finally turned to look at him. My gaze was flat, calm, like the surface of a frozen lake.

Then, in a voice just loud enough for all of his Soldatos to hear, I slowly asked, "Mr. Venturelli, do we know each other?"

His pupils shrank. The hand on my wrist loosened in shock. "Why…"

I easily slipped free from his grip and smoothed the wrinkles from my sleeve. It was the same motion he had used to clean his gun five years ago after shooting a traitor.

"Oh, I remember now," I scoffed, my tone dripping with ice. "You're the legendary Don who sent his adopted daughter and fiancée to federal prison just so he could marry her best friend."

Silence.

The air drained out of the street. His men held their breath, terrified to look at their boss.

Dario had never imagined that the woman who once obeyed his every word, who had loved him to the bone, would speak to him like this.

"You'll regret this, Ravenna," he warned through clenched teeth, his face turning a shade of purple. "Without a famiglia, you're nothing but an ex-con."

I laughed, a short, sharp sound, as I settled into the leather seat of Cassian's car.

Cassian got into the car beside me. The engine purred to life, a low growl that vibrated through the chassis, and the car rolled forward smoothly.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched as Dario's flashy Porsche shrank into a distant, pathetic red dot.

Cassian handed me a cup of warm water. "Does your wrist hurt?"

I shook my head as I watched the gray city blur past the tinted window.

"No. Just feels like the air out here is dirtier than I remember."

Cassian chuckled but said nothing else. He knew my war had only just begun.

The Venturelli famiglia had risen with me by Dario's side. I brought it up from the three run-down streets in Balvan to the high-stakes negotiation tables of Macarius.

Before prison, I was the family's Consigliere. I handled every dirty ledger, every laundering scheme, and every smuggling route.

After prison, all of it fell to my so-called best friend, Ginevra.

She was a fool who couldn't even tally protection money right, let alone run an empire.

I closed my eyes, picturing their faces.

Dario. Ginevra.

I'm back.

The Moretti famiglia controlled more than half of the East Coast ports and shipping lines. They were the titans Dario desperately wanted to be.

My new office was on the top floor of the Moretti Tower. It had a glass wall overlooking the glittering skyline of the Henricossa River.

"This is your battlefield," Cassian said behind me in a steady voice. "Your enemies are the Moretti famiglia's enemies now."

I stared out the window.

In the distance, the faint outline of the Venturelli territory loomed, looking small and fragile.