THE MAFIA KING CAME HOME EARLY AND FOUND A THREE-YEAR-OLD GIRL WASHING HIS SHIRT. WHAT SHE SAID BROUGHT HIM TO HIS KNEES.

The storm that had battered New York for three days finally broke.

By midnight, the Grand Harbor Cathedral was empty, its candles extinguished, the High Table having unanimously reaffirmed my absolute sovereignty over the Ferro empire and the Five Families. Silvio’s loyalists had laid down their arms without firing a shot; the syndicate had purged itself of the rot that had festered for nearly three decades.

I stood on the stone steps outside the cathedral, looking out over the dark waters of the East River.

The city lights twinkled across the black expanse, reflecting off the ripples like fallen stars. The cool autumn wind carried the scent of rain, salt, and something I hadn't felt in twenty-seven years.

Peace.

A soft pair of footsteps approached behind me on the granite stairs.

Elena walked up to my side, wearing my heavy coat over her velvet dress to shield herself from the river breeze. Sofia was fast asleep in the back of my armored Maybach parked at the bottom of the steps, guarded by four loyal men.

Elena stopped beside me, leaning against the cold stone railing, looking out at the city skyline.

"Is it over?" she asked softly, her voice barely carrying above the gentle lapping of the tide.

"It's over," I said, staring straight ahead. "Silvio is gone. His assets have been seized. The trafficking rings have been dismantled, and every corrupt official on that ledger will be behind bars or six feet under by morning. My mother's soul can finally rest."

Elena was quiet for a long moment. Then, she looked up at me, her sea-green eyes shimmering with unshed tears in the amber glow of the streetlamps.

"What happens to us now, Riccardo?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Sofia and I... we were just ghosts from your past. Now that the truth is out... do you want us to leave? I can take Sofia back upstate. We can start over somewhere far away."

I turned my head and looked down at her.

The wind ruffled her chestnut curls across her cheek. She looked so fragile, yet I knew she possessed the heart of an immortal lioness. She had survived horrors that would have broken grown men, and she had raised the most beautiful, pure-hearted child in the world amidst the shadows.

"Do you really think I could let you leave, Elena?" I asked, my voice dropping to a gravelly, tender rumble.

Elena’s breath hitched. "Riccardo... you're the King of this city. You live in a world of violence and blood. Sofia... Sofia needs a normal life. She needs safety."

I took a step toward her, closing the distance between us until she had to tilt her head back to look into my eyes.

"That little girl walked into my laundry room barefoot and tried to save your life with two tiny hands," I said softly, my chest tightening with an overwhelming emotion I couldn't suppress any longer. "She wiped the tears from my face and called me a puppy. She melted a heart that had been frozen in stone for thirty years."

I raised my right hand—the hand that had ended empires—and gently cupped her cheek. Elena leaned into my palm, a soft, trembling sigh escaping her lips.

"And you, Elena," I whispered, my thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheekbone. "You carried my mother's memory for twenty-seven years. You protected her dignity. You brought her back to me. You and Sofia aren't ghosts from my past. You are my future."

Elena looked up at me, her green eyes searching mine, finding nothing but absolute, unconditional devotion.

"I don't know how to live in a castle, Riccardo," she whispered, a tear finally spilling over her lashes. "I only know how to survive."

"Then let me teach you how to live," I replied, leaning down until my forehead gently rested against hers. "No more running. No more hiding in cottages. No more fear. From this night forward, you and Sofia are under my name. You are my family."

Elena let out a sob—not of sorrow, but of pure, unadulterated relief—and threw her arms around my neck.

I pulled her tightly against my chest, wrapping my arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off the cold stone steps as she buried her face in the crook of my neck. For the first time in my life, the black wolf tattooed across my chest didn't feel like a mark of death.