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As we drive through the night, leaving behind the man who saved me only to break my heart, I feel a strange calm settling over me. The decision is made. The path is clear.

I am Aria DeLuca, daughter of Emilio and Sofia. And I will reclaim what was stolen from us, even if I have to burn the Bianchi empire to the ground to do it.

Even if I have to ruin the man I once loved.

Let the ghosts scream. I’m finally ready to answer.

26

MARCO

Idrag my feet through the filthy puddles of the industrial district, ignoring the greasy rainwater seeping into my shoes.

It’s been seven days without her.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours of purgatory, searching every shadow and doorway in this godforsaken city.

My body moves on autopilot while my mind replays the fact that she walked away. She wasn’t taken. She left.

Still, I search.

What else can I do? The emptiness she left behind consumes me from the inside out, and only finding her will stop the bleeding.

The alley narrows between abandoned warehouses. Rusty fire escapes zigzag up the walls like fossilized skeletons. A cat hisses from atop a dumpster.

I barely notice. My focus stays razor-sharp on one thing: finding Aria.

I know I’m just wandering in circles and have no real clue where I should go. But the truth is, if I’m not doing something, I’ll go stir-crazy.

In seven days, I’ve lost weight, sleep, and whatever tenuous grasp on sanity I once possessed.

I push through a rusted gate that groans in protest, stepping into a narrow passage between buildings that doesn’t appear on any city map. This is where information flows, where whispers travel between the city’s forgotten corners. Where someone might have seen a beautiful blonde woman and her twin sister.

My phone vibrates for the tenth time today. Nicolo. Again. I let it buzz until it stops, then continue walking.

It rings again immediately. Persistent bastard.

“What?” I snap, my voice hoarse from disuse and too many cigarettes.

“Boss, we need you at the docks.” Nicolo’s voice is tense, professional. “The Colombians are threatening to pull out of the deal. Their representative is demanding to speak with you personally.”

“Handle it,” I growl, kicking aside an empty bottle that shatters against the wall. “Offer them an extra five percent on the next three shipments.”

“I already did. They’re not budging.” He pauses. “Marco, you need to come in. It’s been a week. The business is suffering. Your father has called twice asking?—”

“I don’t give a fuck what my father wants,” I cut him off, venom dripping from every word. “And the business can burn to ashes for all I care. Find her, Nicolo. That’s your only job now.”

A heavy sigh crackles through the speaker. “We have every available man looking. You think I’m not trying? But you’re going to get yourself killed prowling these neighborhoods alone. Some of these gangs would love nothing more than to catch a Bianchi without backup.”

“Let them try,” I mutter, fingers instinctively touching the gun concealed beneath my jacket. “Maybe it’ll make me feel something.”

“Jesus Christ, Marco, listen to yourself. This isn’t you. Come back to headquarters, regroup. We’ll form a new strategy.”

I laugh. “A new strategy? It’s been seven days, and your men have found nothing. Not a single trace of her. Your strategies aren’t worth shit.”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” Nicolo says, his voice softening marginally. “You know that, right? After what happened, after what she learned?—”

“I know exactly what she learned,” I snap, my chest tightening with a familiar pain. “And I know she’s out there somewhere, thinking she has to face this alone. But she’s wrong. She’s so fucking wrong, and I need to tell her that.”