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I don’t answer.

I should’ve killed him years ago. That’s the truth of it. Every second I’ve wasted, every inch I’ve let him get away, it’s all gonna cost me.

Chapter 21

Daniela

I can’t even remember when the warmth started to creep in.

Maybe it was when I first started nursing him back to health, tending to his wounds with the care of someone who’s been through enough pain to know how much it hurts to be helpless.

Maybe it was when his gruff voice softened for the first time when he let me see more than just the controlled monster he wears like armor.

Every night, he holds me. It’s strange how it feels like something familiar now. Like his warmth is all I have left, the only thing I can count on.

I used to hate the idea of being close to anyone, too scared that the closer I got to them, the worse it would hurt when they left. But with him, I’m…used to it.

I can’t deny it anymore. I’m falling for him. Hard.

I see it in the way his fingers trace the edge of my jaw when he thinks I’m asleep, in the way his breath slows when I curl into him at night. But I know better than to believe in it.

I can feel the wall he’s built around himself, the distance he keeps even when we’re tangled up in the dark together. I can feel it every time he pulls away, like a refusal to let me see too much, to let me in.

Maybe I don’t want to get in. Maybe I’m scared of what it will cost.

It’s been weeks now, and the closer I get to him, the more I realize he’s hiding something from me. He’s always been careful around certain things, like when I talk about my parents. It’s theway his expression flickers, just for a second, before he goes cold again. Like he’s afraid of something coming to the surface.

I don’t say anything. I just watch him. And when I do, I start to see the little things—the way his hands shake when he thinks I’m not looking, the way he flinches when a sound reminds him of something, maybe of a memory he wishes would die already.

And that’s the thing. Remo’s got this way about him that makes you think you’ve figured him out, only to realize you haven’t even scratched the surface. But the more I try to understand, the more I feel like I’m drowning in the silence he leaves behind.

One day, I’m in my room, rifling through my things, when I find the envelope. It’s one with no return address, just a single sheet of paper inside. I don’t recognize the handwriting, but my hands freeze when I read the words.

Remo Callegari is the one who killed your parents.

I’m not sure what I expected, but this wasn’t it.

It feels like someone just yanked the ground out from under me. I can’t breathe, can’t think straight. Remo? He’s the one who…he’s the one who killed them?

No. It can’t be true. They died in a car accident. But how? Why would someone send me this?

My parents died when I was ten. That’s what I’ve been told my whole life. Fifteen years ago. That’s the story.

But this letter says something else.

It says Remo did it. Remo, the man who’s been right in front of me, holding me close and making me think—no, feel—something I haven’t allowed myself to in years.

I know how the mafia works. I know they take you young. They carve you up and make you a soldier before you’re even old enough to understand what loyalty really means.

But Remo? Him? He couldn’t have been the one.

But he was only fifteen. Fifteen when it happened. A kid—no, a boy—pushed into a world he didn’t ask for.

How does that even make sense?

I don’t believe it. Not yet.

I clutch the letter tighter, almost crushing it, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away.