Chapter 8 - The Queen of the Underworld
The war for Boston ended at dawn.
By six in the morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the city quiet under a pale grey sky. Liam O’Connor had been captured trying to flee across the state line, his syndicate completely dismantled within four hours of Pier 4’s fall.
The Duca family had won. Absolutely. Completely.
I sat on the hood of Roman’s personal SUV near the edge of the pier, wrapped in a heavy, warm black blanket that one of his men had brought me. A paper cup of hot coffee was held tightly between my cold hands.
The dock was filled with police cars—not coming to arrest anyone, but standing by respectfully as Roman’s legal team wiped the crime scene clean. In Boston, when Roman Duca finished a war, the city cleaned up the mess quietly.
Footsteps echoed on the wet asphalt behind me.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The heavy, confident stride was unmistakable.
Roman walked up beside the SUV, leaning his tall frame against the passenger door. He had changed into a fresh black shirt, though his hands still bore minor cuts from the night's battle.
He looked down at my hands. Specifically, at the heavy silver crest ring resting on my index finger.
“Ethan gave you that,” Roman said softly.
“I forced him to,” I admitted, looking down at the dark silver seal. I took it off and offered it back to him. “Here. I’m sorry I stole your car.”
Roman didn't take the ring.
Instead, he reached out, his long, warm fingers closing over mine, pushing the ring back onto my hand.
“That ring hasn't belonged to anyone outside the Duca bloodline in eighty years,” Roman murmured, his dark eyes holding mine with a fierce, burning intensity. “Ethan didn't give it to you because you forced him. He gave it to you because he trusts you with my life.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Roman… I’m just a waitress. I live in a two-room apartment in Southie. My life is normal—”
“Your life was normal,” Roman corrected gently, leaning closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. “Until last night. You saved my son. You exposed my underboss. And then you drove into a hail of gunfire to save my army at Pier 4.”
He reached up, his thumb softly tracing the curve of my jawline. His touch was shockingly tender for a man who had executed a traitor twenty minutes ago.
“You are not just a waitress, Clara,” Roman whispered, his voice deep, rough, and intoxicatingly close. “You are the bravest woman I have ever met in this city. And whether you realize it yet or not… you belong at my side.”
I looked into his obsidian eyes, feeling a strange, thrilling warmth spread through my chest. The fear I had felt when I first saw him in the alley was completely gone, replaced by a deep, undeniable connection that had been forged in fire and blood.
May you like
“What happens now?” I whispered softly.
“Now,” Roman said, a faint, rare smile gracing his handsome face, “we go home. Ethan is waiting for us. And Boston needs to meet the woman who just became untouchable.”
