Chapter 3 Three

Smoke Without Fire

The Romano penthouse wasn't a home, it was a fortress. Alessia hadn't seen sunlight in two days.

Dante hadn't let her leave the building since the footage leaked. Her father's compound was locked down, the streets crawling with soldiers from both families. Every headline in the underground news circuits was screaming one thing.

The truce was broken.

She sat curled on the wide velvet arm chair of his office, legs tucked under her, an untouched cup of espresso growing cold in her hands. Across the room, Dante stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, voice low but sharp with tension.

"No," he said, "No retaliation, Not yet... We hold position until we know where Luciano's hiding. If he moves first, we win the moral ground," A pause. "Yes, I said 'moral ground,' Even wolves can pretend to be saints."

He hung up and turned, eyes resting on her like she was both weapon and wound.

"You've barely said two words," he said.

Alessia didn't look up, "What's there to say? You took me like a prisoner."

"I saved your life."

"You ruined it first."

He crossed the room in three strides and knelt in front of her, "Look at me."

She did.

"I didn't send that video to punish you," he said, "But your father killed my brother, He covered it up, And the moment he finds out you saw the proof, you'll never be safe under his roof again."

She swallowed hard, "You think I didn't already know that?"

Dante stood slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you want to leave, I won't stop you, But if you stay"

"What?" Her voice sharpened, "You'll use me? As bait? As leverage?"

He shook his head, "As a partner."

That word hit her like a slap.

"You're serious."

"I need someone who knows Luciano from the inside, Someone he won't suspect, Someone he trusts."

"You mean someone he used."

"You're not the only one who's been used," he muttered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Alessia rose from the chair, walking past him to the wide bookshelves on the far wall.

"My father kept secrets from me," she said, "But I kept a few of my own, too."

She ran her hand along a row of titles, then stopped at a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. With a quiet tug, she pulled it out, and the panel behind it clicked open, revealing a small vault.

Dante's brows lifted, "What the hell is that?"

"I made copies," she said, "Of files, Ledgers, Transcripts, Back when I still believed I could use them to buy my freedom."

"You're giving them to me?"

She turned to him, her face calm but unreadable. "I'm offering you something better."

"What?"

She stepped forward. "A way to end this war before more blood spills, But you'll have to trust me."

He hesitated, "You're still a Moretti."

She met his gaze head-on, "And you're still a Romano, But maybe that's exactly why we're the only ones who can fix what they broke."

Back in the Bronx, Luciano Moretti slammed his fist against the desk hard enough to make the crystal decanter jump.

"She was in the room," he barked.

Marco stood across from him, eyes narrowed. "We don't know what she saw"

"She's with him, That bastard Dante played us all."

"What do you want boss?"

Luciano's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "I want my daughter brought home quietly. If she resists," He looked up, eyes burning, "don't let her."

Marco nodded and left.

Outside, the sky turned darker, storm clouds rolling in over the city like a curtain of war.

Alessia stared out the window of Dante's penthouse as the first raindrops splattered the glass.

Dante stepped beside her, "I need to ask you something."

She didn't look at him, "Go ahead."

"That night... when Luca died, Do you remember anything?"

A silence fell between them.

Then she nodded Slowly,

"There was yelling," she said softly, "Gunfire, And my father dragged me back into the car before the explosion. I remember his hands were covered in blood, And someone... someone was crying, It might've been me."

He turned to her fully, his voice low, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because for years, I thought I'd imagined it."

She finally looked up at him, "And because my father would've killed me if he knew I hadn't forgotten."

Something flickered in Dante's eyes, compassion maybe Or the ghost of it.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, Froze, His jaw tightened.

"What is it?" she asked.

"They found my uncle."

Alessia blinked, "I thought he was dead."

"He was," Dante's voice turned hard. "But someone just saw him walk into a black car bearing the Moretti crest."

She stared at him,

"That's not possible."

"It is," Dante said, "If Luciano is using corpses to bluff... we're in deeper than we thought."

Before she could answer, a bullet shattered the window behind them.

Dante tackled her to the ground.

Glass exploded, Gunfire echoed,

And outside, from the rooftop across the street, a red laser light vanished into the shadows.