The empire expanded.
Not through violence.
Through vision.
Christabel had a plan.
And Damien was willing to follow her anywhere.
But first, they had to survive.
---
The attack came on a Sunday.
Not at the penthouse. Not at the office. On the road. Between the city and Verona.
They were driving back from the hotel construction site. Christabel was behind the wheel. Damien was in the passenger seat. Lena was in the back, asleep in her car seat.
The road was empty.
Too empty.
"Someone's following us," Christabel said.
"I know."
"How many?"
"At least three cars."
"Armed?"
"Probably."
She looked in the rearview mirror.
The cars were gaining.
"Military-grade?"
Damien's jaw tightened.
"Wouldn't surprise me."
---
The first shot came without warning.
The rear window shattered.
Glass flew everywhere.
Lena woke up screaming.
Christabel's heart stopped.
"She's okay," Damien said. "She's just scared."
"They shot at our daughter."
"They shot at us. She's just in the way."
"That's worse."
"I know."
---
Damien pulled out his phone.
Called Marco.
"We're under attack. Road to Verona. Three cars. Military-grade weapons."
"How many hostiles?"
"At least twelve."
"I'll send backup."
"Not fast enough."
"Then don't get killed."
"I'll try."
---
The second shot hit the tire.
The car swerved.
Christabel fought the wheel.
"Hold on," she said.
"I'm holding."
"Hold tighter."
---
She took the next exit.
Not because it was safe.
Because it was their only chance.
The road led to an abandoned warehouse district.
The kind of place where no one would hear the screams.
"Perfect," Damien said.
"What?"
"They chose the wrong place to corner us."
"Why?"
"Because this is our territory."
---
He pulled out a second phone.
Texted someone.
"Who are you contacting?"
"Our people. The ones who clean up messes."
"They're going to need more than cleaners."
"Then they'll bring more."
---
The cars followed them into the warehouse district.
Christabel stopped the car.
Killed the engine.
"Stay here," Damien said.
"I'm not staying here."
"Christabel—"
"I'm not leaving you."
"You have Lena."
"You have me."
---
She got out of the car.
Damien got out beside her.
The three cars stopped.
Men emerged.
Twelve of them. Armed. Military-grade weapons. The kind of guns that could tear through a building.
The leader stepped forward.
Tall. Dark hair. Cold eyes.
"Damien Moreau."
"Who's asking?"
"Someone you should have killed when you had the chance."
---
Damien studied his face.
"Victor Volkov's son."
"Nephew."
"Close enough."
"You killed my uncle."
"He tried to kill my family."
"So I'm going to kill yours."
---
Christabel stepped forward.
"You're not going to kill anyone."
The man looked at her.
"The wife."
"The woman who will end you if you take one more step."
"You're bluffing."
"I don't bluff."
---
The man raised his gun.
Damien moved.
Fast.
Faster than Christabel had ever seen him move.
He grabbed the man's wrist. Twisted. The gun fired into the air. Damien's knee connected with the man's stomach. He doubled over. Damien's elbow came down on the back of his neck. He hit the ground.
The other men opened fire.
---
Christabel dropped to the ground.
Rolled behind the car.
Pulled out her gun.
She had learned to shoot in the basement. With Damien. In the white room with the drain in the floor.
She had killed before.
She would kill again.
---
She fired three times.
Three men fell.
Damien fired four times.
Four men fell.
The remaining five scattered.
Took cover behind their cars.
"This is your last chance," Damien shouted. "Leave now. Or don't."
No one moved.
"Your choice."
---
The firefight lasted ten minutes.
Gunfire echoed off the warehouse walls.
Glass shattered.
Metal screamed.
Lena cried in the car.
Christabel's heart broke every time she heard her daughter scream.
But she couldn't stop.
If she stopped, they would all die.
---
The last man fell.
Damien stood over him.
Gun to his head.
"Who sent you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Then you can't live."
"Do it."
Damien pulled the trigger.
---
The silence was deafening.
Smoke. Blood. Bodies everywhere.
Christabel stood.
Her hands were shaking.
Her dress was torn.
Her face was splattered with blood.
"Lena," she whispered.
She ran to the car.
Opened the back door.
Her daughter was crying. Hysterical. But alive. Unhurt.
"Shh, baby," Christabel said, unbuckling the car seat. "Mommy's here. Mommy's got you."
Lena screamed.
"I know. I know. It's scary. It's loud. But you're safe."
---
Damien appeared beside her.
"We need to go."
"The police—"
"Won't come. This is our territory, remember?"
"The bodies—"
"Will be cleaned up."
"Lena—"
"Is alive. Because of you."
---
He pulled her into his arms.
Lena between them.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For bringing you into this life."
"I chose this life."
"You chose me."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
They drove back to the penthouse in silence.
The car was damaged.
The windows were shattered.
The seats were covered in glass.
But they were alive.
Lena was alive.
That was all that mattered.
---
The penthouse was dark.
The nanny was waiting.
She took Lena. Bathed her. Fed her. Put her to bed.
Christabel stood in the nursery doorway.
Watching her daughter sleep.
"She's okay," Damien said.
"She's traumatized."
"She's strong."
"She's three months old."
"She's ours."
---
Christabel turned to face him.
"Who were they?"
"Volkov's nephew. And others. People who want revenge."
"Against you?"
"Against us."
"How many more are out there?"
"I don't know."
"Then we find out."
---
She walked to him.
Took his hands.
"I'm not going to live in fear."
"You don't have to."
"Then what do we do?"
"We fight."
"Together?"
"Together."
---
That night, they didn't sleep.
They sat in the study.
Planned.
Researched.
Made calls.
"We need better security," Christabel said.
"We have the best."
"We need military-grade."
"You want to start an army?"
"I want to protect our daughter."
---
Damien was quiet for a moment.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"We'll build an army. The best. The most dangerous. People who will die before they let anyone hurt you."
"Not me. Her."
"Both of you."
---
The next morning, Christabel went to the garden.
The rose was still blooming.
She knelt beside it.
"I killed three men yesterday," she whispered.
The rose swayed.
"I killed them to protect my family."
She touched the petals.
"I would do it again."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's awake," he said.
"Lena?"
"Yes."
"I'll be right there."
He walked to her.
Took her hand.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"More than tired?"
"Determined."
"To do what?"
She looked at him.
"To make sure no one ever threatens our daughter again."
-