Chapter 8 Interrogation

Matteo Verona sat tied to an iron chair in the underground interrogation room of Alessandro's villa. The walls were cold stone, the only light a single overhead bulb that swayed slightly, casting harsh shadows across his lined face.

Marco leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, silent as death. Elena stood beside Alessandro, her face blank, her eyes locked on the man who'd tried to erase her bloodline.

Alessandro set a sleek black folder on the table. "Let's start with something simple. Names. Who else worked with Lucia?"

Matteo scoffed, though sweat beaded at his brow. "You think this is pressure? I've seen worse."

Alessandro didn't blink. "So have I."

With a swift motion, he pulled a photo from the folder and slid it across the table. Matteo's eyes flickered. The image showed a ledger-Lucia's coded accounts-and a list of encrypted aliases.

"You've seen this," Alessandro said. "And you're going to translate it."

"I won't betray the code," Matteo said, but his voice had lost some of its edge.

Elena stepped forward, the heels of her boots clicking against the floor. She laid her palms on the table and leaned in.

"You already betrayed your code when you took money to kill a family who had nothing to do with your war," she said softly. "We can take our time here. But you'll talk. The only question is whether you'll still be breathing when you do."

Her words hung in the air like smoke.

Matteo's smirk faded.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Eventually, Matteo broke. Not with a scream or a collapse, but a weary sigh and a slow nod. "Fine. But I want protection."

Alessandro didn't respond immediately. "You'll get what you earn."

With that, Matteo began talking. Names. Routes. Financial codes. A map of the surviving factions that once answered to Lucia. One name surfaced more than once: Bianca Rinaldi.

"Elena's rival," Marco murmured. "The one who vanished after Lucia's fall."

"She didn't vanish," Matteo said. "She's consolidating. And she wants the De Luca throne."

Alessandro's jaw tightened. "She won't get it."

Later that night, Elena stood on the villa's rooftop, staring into the distant hills. The wind pulled at her hair. Alessandro joined her, silent at first.

"He gave us everything," she said. "But I don't feel... satisfied."

"You expected closure."

"I expected it to end."

He reached for her hand. "It doesn't end. It changes. The war doesn't stop. But we control how much of ourselves we give to it."

She turned to him. "What do we do now?"

"We prepare for Bianca."

"And if she's stronger than Lucia?"

Alessandro's eyes darkened. "Then we become stronger than both of them."

In the quiet, Elena nodded. Her resolve hadn't wavered. It had grown.

She would not run. She would rise.