ANTONIO POV

I had won.

The thought settled over me slowly in the days following everything that happened at sea, strange and unfamiliar after years of constant vigilance, constant calculation, constant readiness for whatever attack might come next. Enzo was dead. Jeremy was dead. Silvio, from what little intelligence we'd gathered, had gone quiet, likely understanding that whatever war he'd helped orchestrate had ended decisively in my favor, with nothing left to gain by continuing to fight a battle already lost.

This war had been brewing since before I could properly remember its beginning - years of sabotage, years of watching my back against a brother who hated me for...