Chapter 4 Four

Shadows and Smoke

The room was a blur of chaos, Alessia's heart raced as she lay flat on the cold marble floor, Dante's body pressed against hers. The distant crack of gunfire still echoed in her ears as shards of glass rained down around them. She could feel the tremor in his body, he was tense, ready to strike, but she felt a different kind of fear wash over her.

She gasped for breath, her hand clutching his sleeve unthinking, desperate.

"Stay down," Dante growled, his voice low, filled with a raw urgency. He pulled her closer, his body blocking hers like a human shield. His hand was already reaching for the gun at his hip.

Alessia wanted to argue, to protest, but the words caught in her throat. Another shot rang out, narrowly missing them, and a piece of the chandelier above splintered, its crystal fixtures crashing to the ground.

"Who the hell is shooting at us?" she whispered, her voice shaky, though she refused to show fear, Fear was a weakness she couldn't afford. Not with Dante watching her.

Dante didn't answer immediately. His eyes were trained on the room, scanning it, his mind working at lightning speed. "I don't know," he muttered, his voice low but filled with a quiet rage. "But they're damn good."

Another series of shots splintered the wall beside them, causing dust to puff into the air.

"Move," Dante said, his voice suddenly more forceful. He grabbed her by the arm, yanking her up with surprising strength. "We need cover."

They scrambled to the hallway, Dante tugging her down the narrow corridor with surprising agility. His grip tightened on her wrist, urging her to keep up as they dashed toward the stairwell.

Each step felt like an eternity. The walls felt closer, like the shadows themselves were closing in on them, eager to consume them both. Dante led her up the staircase, each turn more calculated than the last. His pulse didn't quicken, His eyes stayed sharp, and focused. He moved with the same grace and precision that only came with years of practice, years of living on the edge.

When they reached the rooftop access, he shoved open the door, revealing a wide, open terrace. The storm had intensified, heavy rain falling in sheets, making the air feel thick and cold.

Alessia's breath caught in her throat, The storm matched the chaos in her mind. It was as if the sky had chosen to mirror the violence that had just erupted in her life.

The rooftop was eerily quiet, save for the pounding of the rain.

"Do you hear that?" Dante asked, his voice hushed as he stopped just short of the edge of the roof.

Alessia stopped too, She could feel it, something was off. Her instincts were screaming, telling her that danger wasn't just in the storm, It was here, In the shadows.

She nodded, "I do."

For a long moment, the rain pounded harder, the world around them feeling impossibly still. But then, like a flicker of lightning, Alessia saw it, movement from the shadows.

A dark figure appeared on the far side of the roof, just outside the range of the rooftop's flickering lanterns, moving with a purpose.

Dante's hand moved toward his waist, instinctively grabbing the gun at his side.

"Get down!" he barked, pushing her flat to the ground as another bullet sliced through the air, grazing the edge of her coat.

Alessia threw herself flat against the wet, cold rooftop, her heart pounding in her chest. The rain was pouring harder now, mixing with the adrenaline that rushed through her veins.

Another shot rang out, and this time it hit the edge of the building, sending concrete fragments flying. Alessia flinched but remained still, her body pressed to the ground, her fingers trembling against the wet roof.

"Who are they?" she demanded, her voice barely more than a whisper, her throat tight with fear.

Dante's voice was clipped, sharp with focus. "I don't know," he said. "But they're damn good."

She could hear him muttering under his breath, no doubt weighing his options. A fight with the shooter was imminent, but if they didn't figure out who was behind the attack, they'd never get out of this alive.

The seconds stretched on like hours, each one feeling like it could be their last. But then, as suddenly as it had started, the shots stopped.

A deathly silence fell between them. The storm's howling was the only sound, the rain splattering against the ground like a thousand tiny whispers.

Dante lifted his head, eyes scanning the rooftop. His jaw was set, his entire body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. He didn't speak, but there was something in his gaze, a recognition, a calculation.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

Alessia's chest was tight, but she nodded, "I do."

Before she could say another word, a dark figure stepped out of the shadows, the soft click of leather boots against the wet roof barely audible over the rain.

The figure didn't speak at first, just stood there, watching them. The silhouette was tall, dressed in black, his face obscured by the brim of a dark hat and a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

Alessia's breath hitched in her chest, She knew that stance, That walk, She had seen it in the shadows before, in nightmares.

And then the voice broke the silence.

"Don't even think about it."

Her heart skipped a beat, She knew that voice, It was low, calm, and filled with an unmistakable threat.

Dante's body went rigid, his eyes narrowing as he stood slowly, his hands still hovering over his gun but not pulling it. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You've made a mistake," Dante said, his voice edged with a quiet fury.

The figure stepped into the dim light from the rooftop lanterns, his face barely visible but enough for Alessia to recognize the cold gleam in his eyes.

"I don't think I did," the man replied with a smirk. "The mistake was yours, Romano. You've made enemies you can't even see."

Alessia's stomach twisted, She wanted to speak, to shout at him, but the words stuck in her throat. Fear gripped her, choking the air from her lungs. How had they gotten here so fast?

"Who are you?" she demanded, "What do you want?"

The man didn't respond right away, Instead he took a step forward, his cold eyes flicking to Dante and then back to her. "You already know, sweetheart," he said. "But you're too deep in this family to understand."

The world around Alessia blurred, her thoughts spinning as the man's words sank in.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

Dante's hand twitched at his side, but he didn't pull his gun. He was studying the man, assessing him, every detail, every movement.

"I'm the one who killed Luca," the stranger said coldly. "And I'm the one who will take you down,if you make the wrong move."

Alessia's breath caught in her throat.

"What?" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man's gaze flicked to her, his smirk widening. "Your father's war is about to implode, The question is will you stand by him, or will you stand by the truth?"

The rain continued to pour, the storm's fury matching the chaos in her mind. Every part of her wanted to run, wanted to escape, but Dante stood there, unmoving, watching the man like a hawk.

Dante's grip on his gun tightened, but before he could react, the man stepped back, his silhouette blending with the night, swallowed by the rain.

"You'll be seeing me soon," the man's voice called out just before he vanished completely. "And when you do, it'll be too late."

Alessia's heart hammered in her chest as she rose to her feet, staring after the man who had just revealed himself as Luca's killer. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the puzzle wasn't yet clear.

Dante turned to her, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark with fury.

"Who the hell was that?" she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

He didn't answer immediately, his hand still resting on his gun as if preparing for another strike. But he looked at her, his gaze unwavering.

"That's the man who holds all the cards," he said, his voice low, and dangerous. "And if we don't find him before he finds us..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Alessia felt the weight of his words, her stomach sinking. The storm above them mirrored the storm raging in their lives. The war had begun, but no one knew yet who would win.

"Then what?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Dante turned to face her fully, his eyes sharp, and cold. His words were calm, but they held a chilling finality.

"Then we'll burn this whole city to the ground."

The rain pounded harder as they descended back into the building. The silence between them was suffocating, but Dante's mind was already racing ahead, planning his next move. Alessia couldn't shake the image of the mysterious figure, the man who had just claimed responsibility for Luca's death.

There were too many questions, Too many answers that didn't add up.

And the biggest one lingered, who else was playing this game?

"Dante," she said, her voice tight with a mixture of fear and frustration, "We're not going to win this unless we know who's really pulling the strings."

Dante didn't answer, His eyes stayed ahead, hard, and calculating.

They made it back inside through a service stairwell, Dante moving first, clearing each floor before allowing Alessia to follow. The storm still howled outside, but inside the old building, everything had gone deadly silent. Not even the guards who had escorted them in were in sight now.

Alessia's heels clicked quietly against the tile, her breath still shaky. Her mind spun with questions, none of which had answers. Who was that man? Why kill Luca and then come after her and Dante? And why speak in riddles instead of pulling the trigger?

Dante walked several paces ahead, his jaw locked tight. She could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his hand kept brushing against the holstered gun at his side. He was simmering, Not afraid, but furious.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"They were compromised," Dante muttered, glancing down a hallway. "That ambush wasn't random, Someone tipped them off."

He stopped abruptly, pressing his hand against a concealed panel in the wall. With a quiet hiss, a hidden door opened, revealing a small panic room with reinforced steel and surveillance monitors, He pulled her inside.

"What is this place?" she asked, glancing around the tight space.

"Safe room," he replied, locking the door behind them. "One of a dozen in my buildings, Never know when someone will try to put a bullet in your head."

Alessia swallowed hard, The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her with a pounding headache and a heart racing far too fast. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank into one of the leather chairs. The monitors showed a grainy feed of various parts of the building, stairwells, and entrances, even the rooftop. All were empty now.

"Who is that man?" she asked finally. "The one who killed Luca?"

Dante stared at the screen without answering. Then, with a slow breath, he said, "I don't know his name, But I've seen him once before, years ago. He worked for someone higher, a cleaner, a ghost."

Alessia frowned, "Higher? Than Luca?"

Dante looked at her then, "Higher than me, Higher than your father."

Her breath hitched, "That's not possible."

"Isn't it?" he said bitterly, "Your father may run his empire, but someone's bankrolling the wars, Supplying the muscle, Giving the orders. The real kingpins never get their hands dirty, They let people like us bleed."

A silence fell between them, too thick to break with words. Alessia stood slowly, rubbing her arms, "Then he's not done," she whispered. "Whoever this is, whoever that man works for, they want something else."

Dante nodded grimly, "And they've just put us on the board."

They stood in silence, the low hum of the monitor is the only sound. Alessia looked at the screen showing the rooftop, still slick with rain, now empty again.

"Why reveal himself?" she asked, "If he wanted to kill us, he had the shot, Why show his face?"

"To rattle us," Dante said, "To make us question everything."

"And it worked."

He turned toward her then, his expression unreadable, "I don't get rattled, princess, I get even."

His words were like steel, cold and sharp. But Alessia saw the shadows behind his eyes, the flicker of doubt he didn't want to admit. Whoever this enemy was, they had planned this, And worse, they knew about her.

She stepped toward the monitor, watching the security feed of the lobby flicker for a moment. Then something caught her eye.

"Wait, go back."

Dante pressed a button and replayed the loop. There, on the far edge of the camera's view, was a glimpse of someone walking away just before the gunfire had started. A woman, tall, dark hair, and wearing a black coat.

Alessia leaned closer, "I've seen her before, At my father's estate."

Dante narrowed his eyes, "That's Elena De Luca."

Her blood ran cold, "Elena? She's part of the Chicago family, She was always around my father."

"She still is," Dante said grimly. "She was Luca's contact in Chicago, His cleaner."

"Then she's working with the man who killed him?" Alessia asked, her voice tight with disbelief.

"I don't know yet," Dante muttered, "But she was there. She knew the hit was coming."

A chill settled over Alessia. Her mind reeled with the revelation, If Elena was involved, then this was bigger than she thought, bigger than even Dante could see.

And that was when it hit her.

"What if this isn't about us?" she whispered. "What if we're just pawns in something bigger?"

Dante looked at her, his expression hardening, "Then we flip the board."

Later that night, Dante drove Alessia back to one of his secure brownstone safe houses in Midtown Manhattan. He didn't trust any of his usual locations now, not with someone inside his circle leaking information.

The rain had stopped, but the air was still thick with tension.

Alessia watched the skyline pass from the passenger seat, her fingers wrapped tightly around the seatbelt, Her mind spun with thoughts, Elena's betrayal, the rooftop shooter, her father's secrets. It all led to one inescapable truth: someone wanted her dead.

And they weren't done.

"You said you've seen that man before," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Dante didn't look at her, "Briefly, Years ago. He was handling clean-up for a deal gone wrong in Naples. No name, no trail, Just a whisper."

"What did he want with Luca?"

"Maybe Luca knew too much," Dante said, "Maybe he refused to play along, Either way, he became a liability."

Alessia's stomach turned, Her father had trusted Luca like family, Had cried at his funeral, But now...?

"Do you think my father is involved?"

Dante didn't answer immediately, Then, quietly, "I think your father keeps more secrets than you want to know."

She nodded slowly, A bitter truth, but one she had to face.

That night, Alessia sat on the edge of the bed in her temporary room, staring at her reflection in the antique mirror. She didn't recognize the woman looking back, eyes sharp, lips tight, a storm of thoughts behind her gaze.

Her entire life had been protected by illusion, Her father's wealth, His power, His rules, Now all of it felt like glass, beautiful, but fragile.

There was a soft knock at the door.

She turned, "Yes?"

It opened slowly, Dante stepped inside, holding a burner phone, "We have a problem."

Her chest tightened, "What now?"

He tossed the phone onto the bed, "That man, the shooter, he left a message."

She stared at the screen, One message, No number, Just an encrypted voice note.

She pressed play.

The voice that came through was low, distorted, but unmistakable. The same man from the rooftop.

"Loyalty is a cage, Alessia. The more you defend the ones who built it, the deeper you go. Your father isn't the man you think he is, And Dante? He'll lie to protect himself. You want the truth? Find the garden. Find the rose."

Alessia stared at the phone, her blood running cold.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.

Dante's jaw clenched, "It means we're not just in the middle of a war, We're being hunted through it."

And as he spoke, Alessia knew the truth wasn't at the center of this storm.

It was buried beneath the blood-soaked roots of their families.

And someone had just given her the first clue.