QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD

The Vellaro estate glowed beneath moonlight, all elegance and deceit. Valentina stood on her balcony, wind teasing the silk robe clinging to her body, a drink untouched in her hand. Bryan was still in her bed, asleep, the sheets tangled where he'd reached for her in the night.

She couldn't sleep. Not after what she'd read.

The anonymous dossier had been delivered earlier—no name, no insignia. Just ink, black and clean, and a list of names. Her own lieutenants. Trusted ones. Some marked with a single word: "loyal." Others: "liar."

And beneath them all, underlined twice: Someone's feeding intel to the Bianchi cartel.

Bryan didn't know. Not yet.

Valentina turned as the balcony doors creaked open.

"You left the bed cold," he murmured.

Her voice was steel-wrapped silk. "You always assume I'm yours to keep warm."

He came to her side anyway, draping her robe back over one bare shoulder. "Tell me what's in your head."

She handed him the dossier.

Bryan read. His jaw tightened with every name.

"You trust this?" he asked.

"I don't trust anyone anymore."

He looked up. "Including me?"

"I trust you to love me," she said. "But love and loyalty don't always share a bed."

⸻

Elsewhere in the estate, the traitor moved through the halls like a shadow. Niko.

His steps were light, trained from the years he lived on the streets, from when Valentina had pulled him out of blood and ash and made him her creature.

But even loyalty forged in childhood could bend beneath pressure.

He reached the cellar. At the back, hidden behind a wine rack, was the phone.

Untraceable. Untouchable.

He dialed.

A voice answered in Italian-accented English. "Report."

"They're suspicious," Niko whispered. "She's close to finding out."

There was a pause. Then: "You've done well. One more drop of information, and your debt is paid."

The line went dead.

Niko stood in the dark, breathing hard. The air smelled of wine, wood, and betrayal.

⸻

In the war room, Valentina stared at a wall of black-and-white surveillance stills. One caught her attention—Niko disappearing into the cellar, timestamped just twenty minutes earlier.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Niko," she whispered. "Why would you hide from me?"

Bryan entered, now dressed in all black. The moment he saw the screen, he understood.

"He's just a boy," he said carefully.

"He was a boy," she corrected. "Now he's a man. And men choose."

She stood. "Call a council meeting. Sunrise. I want all of them in the east hall. No exceptions."

Bryan hesitated. "Including Niko?"

Her silence was answer enough.

⸻

By dawn, the estate was on edge. The east hall filled with whispers and tension, under chandeliers that had seen more blood than candlelight.

Valentina entered last. Commanding. Dangerous in a crimson suit, no jewelry save the ring that once belonged to her father.

"Niko," she said, motioning him forward.

He stepped from the crowd, chin lifted, defiant.

"Tell them," she said.

He blinked. "Tell them what?"

"What you told them," she replied.

Gasps. Shifts. A gun being unholstered behind her—Bryan's.

Niko's eyes darted. Cornered.

"Don't do this," he said quietly.

"You already did," she said, then turned to the others. "He's been leaking intelligence to the Bianchis. They're planning an ambush. Our shipments, our safehouses, our lives."

Chaos erupted.

Niko drew a blade—Bryan drew faster.

"Don't," Valentina said, and her voice cut like a whip.

Bryan froze.

"Niko," she said softly. "I raised you. I would have died for you."

"You raised me," he spat. "But you turned me into something you could control. I was never your equal. Just your shadow."

Her voice was calm. "That's what you chose to believe."

He lunged.

Valentina didn't flinch.

The gunshot echoed.

Niko crumpled.

Blood on marble.

Her eyes didn't leave him.

"Clean it up," she told no one in particular. "Burn the tapes."

Bryan holstered the gun. He didn't ask if she was okay.

He knew better.

⸻

That night, Valentina stood once again on her balcony. This time alone. Again.

Bryan didn't come.

She stared at the moon and whispered, "Let them all come for me."

Her voice shook.

But she didn't.