The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)

[Caterina’s POV]

“Isabella.”

“Caterina,” Isabella’s smooth Southern drawl fills my ear. “I’d like to make a deal.”

“What kind of fucking deal?” I snarl, gripping the phone so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand. Every muscle in my body tenses as the truck continues rumbling toward our destination.

“Now, now,” Isabella chides as if speaking to a petulant child rather than a woman preparing to slaughter her way through a warehouse. “That’s no way to conduct business.”

“I have information you need,” Isabella continues, her voice honeyed poison. “Adam’s location. I know exactly where Luna is keeping him.”

‘She doesn’t know, I already know.’

My heart skips a beat despite myself. Maddy and Lara exchange glances across the truck’s interior.

“And what would you want in exchange for this information?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady.

“Your entire operation,” Isabella says simply. “La Reale. The trafficking routes. The drug distribution. All of it. Sign everything over to me, and I’ll tell you where to find your boy toy.”

For a moment, I actually consider it. Despite already having his location, it would be nice to walk away from everything I’ve built. Take Adam somewhere far away, somewhere safe. Start over. No more blood, no more violence, just the two of us healing together. It would be the perfect excuse to retire, to leave this life behind like I want too.

But this is Isabella Moretti. The woman who’s been trying to destroy me for a decade. The woman who more than likely orchestrated this entire nightmare with Luna.

The call ends abruptly as I hit the disconnect button with my thumb, letting out a long, deep breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my lungs for hours. My lips quivering dangerously close to telling her exactly what I thought of her “deal.”

Lara looks at me with disappointed eyes, her manic energy momentarily subdued. “Why didn’t you stir the pot?”

I slide my phone back into my pocket, my crimson eyes fixed on the warehouse blueprint displayed on the tablet in front of me. “Because I can’t put Adam in any more danger than he’s already in right now.”

“You think she’d warn Luna?” Maddy asks, her voice carefully neutral as she checks her pistol one final time.

“I know she would,” I reply, my voice hardening. “Isabella and Luna orchestrated this together. If Isabella knows we’re coming, Adam might be...” I can’t finish the sentence, the possibility too horrific to voice.

The driver calls back to me, “Two minutes out, boss!”

I stand, steadying myself against the truck’s wall. “Final check,” I order, my voice carrying that edge of command that’s kept me alive and in power for so long. “Comms, weapons, vests.”

The women around me move with practiced efficiency, tapping earpieces, checking magazines, adjusting body armor. Their faces are set in grim determination, each one understanding exactly what’s at stake today.

“Remember,” I say, my voice cutting through the tension, “Adam is priority one. Find him, secure him, get him out. Anyone who gets in your way dies. Simple as that.”

Lara’s wild grin returns as she chambers a round in her assault rifle. “What about Luna?”

“Kill on sight,” I reply, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “And Isabella too, if she’s stupid enough to be there.”

The truck jerks to a stop, the sudden silence almost deafening after the rumble of the engine. I check my rifle one last time, feeling the comforting weight in my hands.

“Are the snipers trained on the exits?” I ask, my voice steady despite the rage boiling in my veins.

Maddy nods, pressing a finger to her earpiece. “Yes, boss. All exits covered.”

Lara moves to the back of the truck, her hands gripping the metal handles of the doors as she throws it open. That familiar manic grin spreads across her face as she waits for my command.

I slam my fist against the truck wall, the sound reverberating through the metal like a war drum. “Then let’s fucking go!”

“Everyone brace yourselves!” Lara shouts, throwing the doors open.

The truck lurches backward with a roar, tires screeching as our driver slams the accelerator. Metal screams against metal as we crash through the warehouse loading dock, the garage door crumpling like paper beneath the weight of our armored vehicle.

We burst out of the truck before it fully stops, a deadly wave of women in tactical gear flooding into the warehouse. My boots hit concrete, rifle already raised as I scan for threats.

The warehouse is eerily silent, no immediate resistance meeting our violent entrance. The space stretches out before us, dimly lit and cavernous, with metal shipping containers stacked against the walls.

Movement catches my eye, a woman stumbling from behind a container, her eyes wide with shock. She looks exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes, a gun hanging loosely in her hand as she struggles to process what’s happening.

I don’t hesitate. My finger squeezes the trigger, and the rifle bucks against my shoulder. The woman crumples to the ground, a spray of blood paints the wall behind her.

My women pour into the warehouse behind me, weapons raised, and suddenly, the air is thick with gunfire and screaming.

“CONTACT RIGHT!” someone shouts as a group of Luna’s enforcers emerges from behind a stack of crates, weapons blazing.

I duck behind a concrete pillar as bullets chip away at the edges, concrete dust raining down on my shoulders. I swing around the corner, squeezing the trigger in controlled bursts. Two women drop instantly, their bodies jerking violently as the rounds tear through them.

“BOLT THE FUCK UP, BITCHES!” [A/N: I am not a Chargers fan.] Lara’s voice rises above the chaos, almost gleeful, as she charges forward, her red hair flying behind her like a battle standard. She vaults over a fallen stack of pallets, assault rifle chattering in her hands as she advances on a group of Luna’s women who are desperately trying to establish a defensive position.

The first woman goes down with a scream, her chest erupting in a spray of red. The second barely has time to raise her weapon before Lara is on her, driving the butt of her rifle into the woman’s face with a sickening crunch. Teeth and blood scatter across the concrete floor. Lara laughs as she executes her.

“I’M GOING ASUKA MODE!” Lara howls, her face contorted in savage glee as she empties her magazine into a third woman trying to flee. The rounds catch her in the back, sending her sprawling face-first onto the concrete.

I push forward relentlessly, my focus narrowing to a laser point. Find Adam. Nothing else matters.

A bullet whizzes past my ear, so close I feel the displaced air. I whirl toward the source, dropping to one knee as I return fire. My rounds catch the shooter in the throat, and she falls in a gurgling heap, hands clutching uselessly at her ruined neck.

‘I need to focus.’

The warehouse erupts into a full-blown war zone. The air is thick with gunsmoke and the metallic scent of blood. Screams and shouts echo off the high ceiling, punctuated by the staccato rhythm of gunfire and the duller thud of explosions as flashbangs detonate.

“Boss, on your three!” Maddy shouts.

I pivot smoothly, my rifle already tracking. A woman charges toward me, knife raised high. I squeeze the trigger, and her head snaps back, a clean hole appearing between her eyes before the back of her skull explodes outward.

I sweep through the warehouse with deadly efficiency. My women fan out around me in a protective formation, but so far, we’ve encountered only minimal resistance. Bullet casings crunch beneath my boots as I move deeper into the structure, stepping over bodies without a second glance.

“Status report,” I bark into my comm, scanning the cavernous space for any sign of Adam.

“East wing clear,” Maddy’s voice crackles in my ear. “Three tangos down, no casualties on our side.”

“North entrance secured,” another woman reports. “No sign of Luna or the target.”

Something cold slithers down my spine as I realize we’ve been here nearly ten minutes without finding Adam. The warehouse is massive, but we’ve cleared almost half of it already. Luna’s forces seem scattered, disorganized.

“West area’s a maze of storage rooms,” Lara’s voice hisses through my comm. “Think we found something, boss.”

I change direction immediately, following the sound of distant gunfire. Every second feels like an eternity, every breath a struggle against the crushing weight of fear that threatens to overwhelm me.

‘What if he’s not here?’

I round a corner and find Lara and a handful of my women pinned down at the entrance to a narrow hallway. Bullets zip past, embedding themselves in the wall behind them with dull thuds.

“What’s the situation?” I demand, sliding into cover beside them.

“At least three shooters,” Lara reports, her eyes gleaming with manic excitement. “They’re dug in pretty good at the end of that hallway. Those look like bunkrooms.” She points to a series of doors lining the corridor. “Adam could be in any of them.”

Hope flares in my chest. I peer around the corner, only to jerk back as another bullet whizzes past my face.

“We need to clear that hallway,” I growl, checking my magazine. “Now.”

The women around me nod grimly, preparing to advance under covering fire. But before I can give the order, Lara’s face splits into that terrifying grin I know all too well.

“Fuck this,” she announces cheerfully, and before anyone can stop her, she’s on her feet and sprinting directly into the gunfire.

“IDIOT!” I scream, my heart stopping as I watch my psychotic lieutenant charge straight toward certain death.

But somehow, impossibly, the bullets seem to miss her. Bullets pinging off the walls and floor around her but never finding their mark. It’s not bravery. It’s pure lunacy, a complete disregard for her own mortality that borders on the supernatural.

I watch in disbelief as she reaches the first shooter, dropping her with a single shot to the head. She pivots quickly, putting two rounds into the chest of the second woman before she can even react. The third tries to flee, scrambling backward, but Lara is on her in an instant, pressing her rifle against the woman’s forehead and pulling the trigger without hesitation.

The sudden silence is deafening. Lara stands amid the carnage, her chest heaving slightly, that manic grin still plastered across her face. She looks around, then casually kicks one of the bodies to ensure it’s dead.

“Clear!” she calls, waving us forward with the barrel of her gun.

I rush down the hallway, stepping over bodies as I go. “Jesus Christ, Lara,” I mutter as I pass her, heading straight for the door at the end of the hallway.

I lunge at the door at the end of the hallway, my boot connecting with the lock in a violent explosion of splintering wood. The door flies open, slamming against the wall with a crash that echoes through the room.

My rifle sweeps left, then right, searching for threats, but the room appears empty of hostiles. The air is thick with the smell of antiseptic.

Then I see him.

Adam lies motionless on a bare mattress in the center of the room, illuminated by a single harsh fluorescent light. His body is a canvas of bruises, purple and yellow flowering across his exposed skin. His wrists are raw and bloody, his hands still twisted in that unnatural position from when I broke them.

“ADAM!”