Being a Crow meant you inherited every war your blood hadn’t finished. Every feud, secret, alliance forged before you could walk—was yours the moment you took the oath.


    It meant I’d die for my cousins, their wives, their kids. For any living Crow with the crest tattooed on their back.


    The weight wasn’t optional. You didn’t pick your enemies, and you protected the family like it was a religion.


    And when someone tested that?


    You reminded them this bloodline had been built to end things one way.


    Our way.


    Which was how I ended up pacing the penthouse with blood on my knuckles. Rome was groaning into an ice pack on the couch, and Luca was washing a bat in the sink.


    So much for the basketball bet between brothers.


    “For the record, I was winning.” Rome winced, pressing the ice higher to his jaw.


    I pulled the medical kit from under the bar, grabbing the peroxide.


    My ribs ached every time I moved, but pain was proof I’d lived through it. “No one gave a shit about your jump shot. They swung because of the crest on your chain.”<fn1e9a> Readplete version only at Find★Novel</fn1e9a>


    “They swung because they thought maybe we’d gone soft,” Luca said, rinsing the bat clean of blood.


    Rome groaned. “Maybe next time we don’t wear the chains at the court?”


    I poured the peroxide on my knuckles. “Maybe next time we don’t let six street rats surround us without noticing.”


    “They weren’t rats. Two Southbound. One from Man’s crew.” Luca turned.


    “Man’s?” Rome moved the ice pack.


    “Yeah.”


    That changed everything. It wasn’t just men needing an ego boost.


    “Their mistake wasn’t swinging first. It was leaving us breathing,” I muttered, feeling the anger rise again. So much for leaving my rage at the court.


    “They wanted humiliation. Phones out, get one of us bleeding on camera,” Luca added, and I tossed him disinfectant.


    He caught it without looking, same hand that had shattered that fucker’s wrist for pointing that phone at us.


    Rome groaned, holding his ribs. “Fuck, my jaw feels dislocated. They weren’t even good. Just fast.”


    “Fast and dumb wasn’t survival. It was open casket,” I said, and gestured for him to put his hand out.


    “Maybe a closed casket is more fitting.” Rome leaned back into the couch, watching as I poured the peroxide on his knuckles. “So, what’s the move?”


    Luca’s eyes flicked to mine.


    We didn’t need to discuss what came next. We’d been raised in the same blood and trained with one response. The only question was how hard, and how much noise.


    “Quiet retaliation,” he said.


    I nodded. “No noise, no mess, no mercy. We bleed them slow.”


    Rome looked between us before agreeing. I could guarantee he regretted it. It was supposed to be a bet between brothers, who could sink the most shots. We were reminded we didn’t get the luxury of that anymore.


    “So… port meeting tomorrow?” Rome grabbed a cigarette packet off the table, only to toss it to the ground when he realized it was empty. “Who’s sitting in?”


    Tomorrow wasn’t a port meeting. It was a body count with wine sses.


    “Union rep. Two city inspectors. Nero’s silent partner will try to show. We cut him out fast,” Luca said, picking the empty packet up and tossing Rome a fresh one.


    “We set it at Ember & Ice. Private room. Cameras off. Security doubled,” I added, holding my ss tighter.


    Even in business, I thought of her. How many nights she’d sat at tables surrounded by men writing her into contracts.


    “Less like dinner and more like a funeral.” Rome gave a half-smile, lighting a cigarette.


    “That was the point.” I flexed the ache out of my hand. “Anyone showed soft, we bled ground.”


    Luca’s eyes met mine. “You taking lead?”


    “Yeah. But you ran numbers before we walked in. Rome handles perimeter. Only our men.”


    Silence followed. Just the hum of the city through bulletproof ss. The kind of silence that was heavier than the fight.


    Because Crow blood didn’t mean rest. It meant tomorrow was already there. And the port wasn’t just business, it was legacy.


    Rome grabbed his jacket. “Night.”


    “Try and get some sleep tonight, Rome.”


    He flipped me the finger as he walked off. We all knew where he was headed, and it sure as fuck wasn’t his bed. Where he should have been going.


    That woman was going to lead him down a path that would cost all of us.


    Luca set the bat down on the counter, dried, then poured whiskey. Handed one to me without a word.


    I took it, but caught his eyes. They lingered on the phone facedown on the counter, screen still glowing through the ss.


    There were worse things than taking a beating in the street. Worse than bleeding under Viin’s red neon lights.


    It was watching the girl you loved online, living like you’d never existed. Having no idea you still cared.


    And waiting, night after night, for her to return to Viin.


    I drained the ss, letting the burn hit harder than the bruises.


    Because bruises faded.


    But waiting like that?


    It carved.


    Three years, and she hadn’te to the city.


    Three years of ports, syndicate wars, dynasty meetings, blood spilled. None of it filled the space she left behind.


    She was breathing air that wasn’t mine. Lifting a ss that wasn’t handed by us. Sleeping without my hand on her thigh, and Luca hand on her waist.


    The world thought we’d expanded an empire in those years. That we had risen as expected.


    Truth was, we’d starved.


    Because empire meant nothing if she wasn’t in it.


    I set the ss down hard enough to crack it.


    The phone still glowed on the counter. One swipe away from her feed and the life she lived without us.


    Luca didn’t move, but his eyes stayed on it. Same as mine. We didn’t need to say her name. We never did. It lived in both of us like a second pulse.


    The only war that ever mattered.


    Every fight, every bullet—we weren’t bleeding for the city or for power.


    We were bleeding for her.