Page 17 of Fire and Silk

He turns on his heel and storms out, black coat flaring behind him like a curse.

The silence he leaves in his wake is theatrical.

I place a hand over my heart and turn to Matteo. “How could he think of me like that?” I ask, face twisted in mock betrayal.

Matteo doesn’t blink.

“He and Mina have been searching for the fourth heir,” he says flatly.

I smile wider. “Good thing the heir is with me now.”

I move toward the console by the corridor, fingers brushing the surface absently. My reflection in the black glass stares back—button-down half open, posture easy, grin still in place.

Then I look at Matteo again.

“Look up everyone connected to her,” I say, voice low now. “Phone logs. Friends. Employers. Teachers. Neighbors. Anyone my brother might talk to before he gets to them.”

Matteo nods. “Understood.”

“And Matteo?” I gesture toward his slate-gray suit, all formality and death.

He pauses.

“Wear something pretty for our meeting with Don Galluzzi tonight,” I say, grinning. “Light colors. Ivory. Maybe a warm beige. He needs to see us as harmless.”

Matteo’s jaw tenses.

“Oh, and wipe that frown off your face. You’re scary.”

Chapter Three - Lira

The Silk Root Chamber – Sublevel B, Dantès Estate

I wake with a jolt.

A stinging inhale claws through my lungs, and I sit up fast, gasping, shaking, drenched in sweat. My body feels wrong—slow, heavy, like my blood’s been laced with concrete.

“What the fuck,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, brittle, not mine.

I blink into the light. The room is soft, glowing, and quiet. Everything is expensive. Pale velvet. Rose-gold lamps. A rug so thick it swallows sound. The air smells like lavender and lemon balm. There are no beeping machines, no IVs, no industrial lighting.

This isn’t a hospital.

This isn’t my apartment.

This isn’t anywhere I know.

I push the sheets off and stumble out of bed, bare feet hitting warm wood. My legs tremble. My knees almost buckle. I grab the bedpost to stay upright. My heart is pounding like I ran here, but I didn’t run. I was home. I—

I was home.

I was home. I came back from work. The lights weren’t working. I—

Oh god.

I throw myself at the door.

I twist the knob. Yank it. Slam my shoulder into the wood. It doesn’t budge. There’s no sound behind it. No footsteps. No traffic. No city. Just calm.