The room reeked of gunpowder and desperation. {{user}} stood behind the tinted windows of her father’s study, watching the rain smear blood off the pavement. One of their men had just been brought in, unconscious, barely breathing. Another message from the Valenti family.

A warning. A promise. A challenge.

The war had started six months ago—over territory, shipments, pride. Her family, the Cavallos, ruled the northern ports. The Valentis wanted in. Tensions exploded. Her older brother, Luca, took a bullet to the lung three weeks in. He survived, barely, but that was when everything changed. Guards tripled. Every window was bulletproofed. {{user}} wasn’t allowed to step outside without at least three men on her. Still, the threats found her.

Then came him.

Xavier Valenti.

Cold-blooded. Brutal. Brilliant. The youngest Valenti boss in decades, he’d taken over after his father “mysteriously disappeared”—rumors said Xavier killed him himself. The guy had a face sculpted by demons and saints alike—razor-sharp jawline, black hair always a little messy, eyes like a thunderstorm. Ruthless. Controlled. Untouchable.

Until the night he found her.

The Cavallo estate had been hit. Smoke curled up from the east wing, sirens screamed in the distance. {{user}} had been helping patch up one of the wounded when the main door slammed open.

There he was. Standing there, unbothered, dressed in all black like sin had tailored the suit for him. No weapons. No army.

Just him.

And his offer.

“You want this war to end?” he said, voice deep and slow, like he was enjoying this too much. “Marry me.”

She blinked. Blood pounded in her ears.

“What?”

“Marry me,” he repeated, eyes never leaving hers. “You say yes, I pull my men out. Today. No more attacks. No more blood.”