The war came.
Not to the city.
To Verona.
The city they built.
The city they loved.
The city they would burn to the ground before letting anyone take it.
---
The call came at midnight.
Christabel was in the nursery. Lena was sleeping. The city was quiet.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She almost didn't answer.
"Mrs. Moreau."
"Who is this?"
"A friend."
"I don't have friends who call at midnight."
"You have enemies who attack at dawn."
Her blood went cold.
"What are you talking about?"
"Verona. Your city. The one you built. The one you love. It's going to burn."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who wants you to know. Someone who wants you to watch."
The line went dead.
---
She ran to the bedroom.
Damien was awake.
"We have a problem."
"What?"
"Verona. Someone's going to attack it. At dawn."
"How do you know?"
"A call. Anonymous. A warning."
"It could be a trap."
"It could be real."
He was out of bed in an instant.
"Wake the army."
---
The next hour was chaos.
Phones rang. Soldiers mobilized. Plans were made.
Cole stood in the command center.
Satellites. Screens. Intelligence reports.
"We have confirmation," he said. "Three convoys. Heading toward Verona. Armed. Military-grade."
"How many?"
"At least a hundred."
"Who?"
"Volkov's remnants. And others. People who want revenge."
"Against us?"
"Against everything you've built."
---
Christabel stood beside Damien.
Her hands were steady.
Her voice was calm.
"How long until they arrive?"
"Four hours."
"Can we stop them?"
"We can try."
"Try isn't good enough."
Cole looked at her.
"Then we die trying."
---
The convoy left at 3 AM.
Fifty soldiers. Fifty killers. Fifty people who had sworn to protect the family.
Christabel rode in the lead vehicle.
Damien was beside her.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"I should be everywhere."
"You could get hurt."
"So could you."
"This isn't a game."
"I know." She looked at him. "That's why I'm here."
---
The drive to Verona was silent.
The roads were dark.
The city was waiting.
Christabel watched the lights flicker in the distance.
The old town square. The fountain. The bench beneath the tree.
The hotel they were building. The cultural center. The homes they had created.
"This is ours," she said.
"It is."
"They're trying to take it."
"They're trying."
"They're going to fail."
He took her hand.
"Yes, they are."
---
They arrived at 4 AM.
The soldiers spread out.
Took positions.
Waited.
Cole stood beside Damien.
"ETA is one hour."
"Are we ready?"
"We're ready."
"And if we're not?"
Cole smiled.
"Then we improvise."
---
Christabel walked to the old town square.
The fountain was running.
The bench was empty.
She sat down.
Damien followed.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting."
"Here?"
"Here."
"It's not safe."
"Nowhere is safe."
---
She looked at the bench.
The same bench where she had sat with Damien so many times before.
The same bench where she had told him she needed space.
The same bench where she had come back to him.
The same bench where she had spread her mother's ashes.
"This is where it started," she said.
"Where what started?"
"Us. Our family. Our empire."
"And this is where it will continue."
She looked at him.
"Or end."
---
The sun began to rise.
Pink and gold.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
Cole's voice crackled through the radio.
"Convoys approaching. Five minutes out."
Damien stood.
Pulled Christabel to her feet.
"Stay behind me."
"I'm not staying behind you."
"Christabel—"
"I'm standing beside you. Where I belong."
---
The first convoy appeared on the horizon.
Black SUVs. Military-grade. The kind of vehicles that could withstand an explosion.
They stopped at the edge of the city.
Men emerged.
Armed.
Dangerous.
The leader stepped forward.
Tall. Dark hair. Cold eyes.
"Damien Moreau."
"Victor Volkov's son?"
"Nephew. But yes."
"You should have stayed away."
"I should have killed you when I had the chance."
"You never had a chance."
---
The man laughed.
"Look around you. We have a hundred men. You have fifty."
"We have fifty more than we need."
"Confident."
"Prepared."
---
The man raised his gun.
Christabel stepped forward.
"I wouldn't do that."
"And why not?"
"Because if you shoot, my soldiers will shoot. And you'll be dead before you hit the ground."
"You'll be dead too."
"Maybe." She smiled. "But I'll die knowing my daughter is safe."
---
The man hesitated.
"You're bluffing."
"I don't bluff."
"Your husband does."
"My husband doesn't do anything without my permission."
The man looked at Damien.
"She's right," Damien said. "I don't."
---
The standoff lasted an hour.
Guns raised. Fingers on triggers.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The sun rose higher.
The city woke up.
"You can't stay here forever," the man said.
"We don't need forever. We just need until our reinforcements arrive."
"What reinforcements?"
Damien smiled.
"The ones we called an hour ago."
---
The man's face went pale.
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
In the distance, the sound of helicopters.
Black Hawks. Military-grade. The kind that belonged to governments.
The man stared.
"You can't have military helicopters."
"We don't." Damien stepped forward. "We have better."
---
The helicopters landed.
Soldiers emerged.
Not fifty.
Two hundred.
Armed. Trained. Ready.
The man's hands shook.
"This isn't over."
"Yes, it is."
"You'll pay for this."
"We already have."
---
The man retreated.
His soldiers followed.
The convoys disappeared over the horizon.
Christabel stood in the old town square.
Her hands were shaking.
Her heart was pounding.
"It's over," Damien said.
"For now."
"They'll be back."
"Then we'll be ready."
---
She turned to face him.
"I love you."
"I know."
"I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Good." He kissed her forehead. "It should."
---
That night, Christabel put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
She read her daughter a story. Not a baby book. A real story. One of her favorites.
"There was a woman who went to war," she read. "Not because she wanted to. Because she had to. Because her family was worth fighting for."
Lena stared at her.
"Bah," she said.
"That's right," Christabel said. "Bah."
---
Damien was in the doorway.
"She said it again."
"She said it to me."
"She said it to both of us."
She closed the book.
Set it on the nightstand.
"She's going to be brave."
"She's going to be just like you."
"God help the world."
"God help anyone who tries to take what's hers."
---
They stood over the crib together.
Lena was asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"We won today," Christabel said.
"We survived today."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"What happens tomorrow?"
"We prepare."
"For what?"
"For the next war."