Diana Reed carefully relit the tall taper candle on the console beneath the large gilded portrait

Diana gasped, scrambling backward, raising the heavy brass candlestick as the door handle shook again. "Who is it?" she cried out, her voice shaking with terror.

"Are you unharmed, Diana?" Vincent's deep, unmistakable voice filtered through the heavy wood.

Diana sobbed in relief, immediately throwing the deadbolt and pulling the door open.

Vincent stepped into the room. He looked like a god of war. His crisp white shirt was stained with soot and a few drops of blood, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular, tattooed arms. The extremely short stubble on his jawline was dark with ash, and a nasty cut ran across his high-bridged nose. Yet, his posture remained unbowed, and his cold, perceptive eyes swept the room instantly, finding her in the dim light.

"You're bleeding," Diana gasped, dropping the candlestick and rushing toward him.

"Is a little blood not the cost of cleaning house?" Vincent asked, catching her by the waist as she collided with his chest. His large, tattooed hand came up to rest gently on the back of her head, holding her close. The smell of gunpowder and expensive cologne enveloped her.

"Is it over?" Diana whispered against his chest, terrified of the answer.

"Do you believe the Voss family will ever pose a threat to us again?" Vincent inquired, stepping back slightly to look down into her face. "Victor is dead. His remaining men surrendered when they realized they were completely surrounded by my tactical teams."

Diana swallowed hard, the brutal reality of the mafia world crashing over her. She had unlatched a portrait, and Vincent had finished a war. "And Elara?"

"Will you accompany me to the cellar to conclude that piece of business tomorrow?" Vincent asked, a dark, unforgiving shadow crossing his eyes.

He didn't wait for her to process the terrifying reality of his question. He looked past her to the bed, where Natalie was stirring slightly, the sounds of the distant sirens finally piercing her exhaustion.

"Is my wife finally safe?" Vincent asked, walking past Diana to sit on the edge of the bed.

The morning sun cast a cold, pale light over the shattered glass and scarred marble of the Crowne estate. The air still smelled faintly of cordite and smoke, a lingering ghost of the violence that had claimed the night. But inside the grand dining room, where the chaos had first been ignited, a strange, profound peace had settled. The velvet chairs were righted, the debris swept away, and the fortress stood unbowed.

Vincent stood by the tall, repaired windows of his private study, gazing out over the sprawling grounds. He had changed into a fresh, immaculate dark three-piece suit, his powerful shoulders carrying the weight of his newly solidified empire. The extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble on his jawline perfectly framed his cold, perceptive eyes as he listened to Marcus’s final casualty report.

"Are the remaining Voss territories completely under our control, Marcus?" Vincent asked, not turning away from the glass.

"Yes, Boss," Marcus grunted, shifting his weight. "The capos surrendered at dawn. The entire eastern seaboard is yours now. And Elara... the commission took her. They want to make an example out of her."

"Do you believe they will show her any more mercy than she showed my wife?" Vincent inquired, his deep voice dropping to a terrifying, satisfied rumble.

"Not a chance in hell, sir," Marcus replied grimly.

As Marcus left, the heavy oak door of the study opened again. Diana stepped inside, and Vincent’s breath hitched slightly in his chest. She was no longer wearing the sophisticated black maid dress. Instead, she wore a beautifully tailored, emerald-green silk blouse and dark trousers, clothes Vincent had ordered for her.

"Did you sleep at all, Diana?" Vincent asked, closing the distance between them.

"A little," Diana answered softly. "Natalie is awake. She is asking for you."

"Do you believe the savior of the Crowne family should ever wear a maid's uniform again?" Vincent asked, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips as he offered her his arm.