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I can’t do it.

I don’t want to be like him. I won’t become like him.

I lower the gun, my hands trembling, and he steps forward, coming too close. He pries it from my grip, his fingers cold against my skin, before leaning in and whispering in my ear.“You should’ve taken the shot while you could,” he murmurs. “Now, you’ll never be able to get rid of me again.”

Then he walks out without another word, leaving me standing there with my heart heavy in my chest.

What the hell did I even want from him? What did I think was going to happen? I don’t know anymore.

But I do know one thing.

He’s ruined me.

And I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to pick up the pieces.

Chapter 22

Remo

I don’t think twice when I find out who betrayed me.

There’s no hesitation, no need for a drawn-out process. She made her choice, and I’m not in the mood for explanations. I shoot her twice in the face just like that. No warning, no moment of doubt. It’s over.

This is Leone’s one last move at getting to me—compromising my staff to put the letter in Daniela’s room and offering her a hefty payout. Too bad she’ll never live to spend it.

Daniela wanted the truth, and now she has it.

I don’t waste time with theatrics. I just turn to “The Cleaners.” They know the drill. They’ll make her disappear. It’s what they’re good at.

The weight of it doesn’t hit me until I’m back at the house.

I push open the door to her room. She has refused to visit mine since that day.

Daniela also hasn’t left her space, and she’s holed up and avoiding me like I’m the plague. And honestly? I don’t blame her. But I’m not gonna let it slide. She’s mine, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. So, I do what I always do. I approach the problem head-on.

I knock once, then twist the handle.

Nothing.

I step in, my boots heavy on the hardwood floor. She’s curled up on the bed, her eyes staring at the wall, her face set in a way I know all too well. It’s like she’s trying to erase everything in her head. Like she’s trying to pretend she’s somewhere else.

“Daniela,” I say her name quietly, but there’s something raw in my voice that cracks when I do.

She doesn’t react.

I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not this—this cold nothingness. It gnaws at me, and for a moment, I want to punch something. Anything.

“Look at me,” I demand. I hate that she’s avoiding me like I’m some kind of disease she’s trying not to catch.

Her eyes shift over to me for just a second before she shuts them again.

I step closer.

“Daniela,” I say, my voice softer than I want it to be.

Still nothing.

I take another step, closing the distance between us. “We need to talk.”