Chapter 8

Alessia POV:

"He knew," I whispered, the words a ghost of a sound. The desert air, once just thin, now felt like a vacuum, stealing the breath from my throat.

"My father knew she was investigating him. He killed her. Or had her killed."

The compass wasn't just a keepsake. It was a breadcrumb.

Her last, desperate message to me. A map leading straight to this ugly, inescapable truth.

A strange detachment settled over me, my hands moving as if they belonged to someone else as I plugged the flash drive back into the laptop.

There was one file I hadn't opened. A personnel file.

I clicked.

It wasn't for a DEA agent. It wasn't for the FBI.

It was a De Luca family record.

Name: Martha Gallo, née De Luca.

Status: Deep-cover operative.

Assignment: Infiltrate Gallo Family, gather intelligence on 'Crimson Thorn' operation.

Final Entry: Killed in action.

The world didn't just tilt. It shattered.

It caved in, sucking the air from my lungs and leaving a black, screaming void where my life used to be.

My father was a drug lord who murdered his own wife.

My mother was a spy for the rival family she'd married into.

And Dante. My fiancé. My dark prince. He was her nephew. Her commanding officer.

He had used me, his own cousin, to avenge his blood.

My entire existence was a lie. A meticulously crafted stage play, and I was the only one who didn't know my lines.

I drew in a slow, empty breath, the chaos inside me freezing over into something hard and sharp. A cold, dead calm settled in my bones.

I turned to Dante.

"My father will pay for what he did," I said, my voice a stranger's. "I want to see him. One last time. Before he faces the Commissione."

Dante's face was unreadable, a mask of carved stone. "I'll see what I can do," he said, his voice flat. "It depends on what he chooses."

The drive back to Phoenix was a silent tomb.

I clutched the flash drive in my fist, its sharp edges digging into my palm. The pain was the only real thing in a world of ghosts and lies.

The car stopped in front of my house.

My home.

Now, just an empty shell filled with memories that were all poison.

I stepped out onto the curb.

A black SUV screeched to a halt beside me, its tires screaming on the pavement. The doors flew open.

Masked men.

A hand clamped over my mouth, rough and smelling of dirt. A sharp pain pricked my neck.

A voice hissed in my ear, the words a venomous whisper.

"Don't scream, little bird."

And then, I was pulled into darkness.