Page 20 of Intrigue (Dark Syndicate #4)

Alessandro

The basement stinks of rot. Mold creeps up the stone walls, the slow drip of a leaking pipe the only sound besides Gino’s ragged breathing.

Blood smears the concrete floor, pooling beneath his shaking hands.

His fingers are barely recognizable now, the skin peeled back in wet ribbons, nails cracked and pried loose.

He sobs, head lolling against the chair’s back, but I dig the knife in again, just under his knuckle, and his body jerks.

“Scream as loud as you want,” I say. “No one can fucking hear you.”

A strangled whimper. Pathetic. “Please—”

“No.” I press down. “You thought you could snitch on me and walk away breathing?”

His chest heaves, spit pooling at the corner of his mouth. “Don promised me a big payout. I was just supposed to report to him, everything you did. Please.”

The tip of the blade slides under his next nail. A single movement, and it pops free with a wet snap. His scream is choked, desperate.

Then I snap his wrist back, his bones cracking sharp under my grip. Blood spatters my boots, pooling in large volumes all over the floor. “How long have you been spying on me? Answer me, you dumb fuck.”

“Please…” His voice is a whimper now, fading fast.

Gino’s head wobbles. His swollen eye is barely open, lip split down to the teeth. “Since the girl left,” he wheezes. “After that night. After Edoardo died.”

My fingers tighten around the knife handle. My scars throb. Fire roars through my skull, its phantom flames licking at my arms, my throat—

I exhale sharply, pushing it down. “Don Marconi’s known since then?”

Gino nods frantically. “He—he’s been watching you. Since before Selene disappeared. He knew—he knew you were playing both sides.”

I step back, tossing the blood from the blade. My jaw clenches. That bastard. The old snake’s been on to me longer than I thought.

I glance at Gino’s trembling form, his body sagging in the chair, half-conscious. Useless now. I twist the knife one last time, a final breathless gasp escaping his lips before his body slumps forward.

This war just got personal.

***

Don Marconi’s villa looms ahead, golden light spilling from arched windows, guards stationed at every entrance. They tense when I approach, but I don’t stop. My steps echo against polished marble, the scent of cigar smoke thick in the air.

Inside his study, the Don lounges behind his desk, swirling a tumbler of whiskey, his eyes cool. His eyes lift to mine, cold and cutting, but there’s something else there, and it is not surprise, it’s like he’s been waiting for this.

“Sandro.” He leans back, assessing me. “Imagine my surprise when Gino paid me a visit. In fact he came to me with an interesting story. Something old. Then you go and buy Cassian’s gallery. What's really your angle?”

I don’t sit. “Cut the bullshit.”

His lips twitch. “Alright. Let’s get to it, then. What exactly was my daughter doing in your house?”

I keep my expression blank. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“Everything concerning Selene concerns me.” His voice is smooth, too smooth. “And what’s this about Cassian’s gallery? That wasn’t part of our arrangement.”

I tilt my head. “Respectfully, sir, that isn’t the bone of contention.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, but it is.” He sets the glass down with a deliberate clink. “You’re playing at something, Sandro. Buying out Cassian’s leverage. Taking an interest in my daughter’s affairs. I wonder, should I be worried?”

I meet his eyes. It’s a standoff, two predators circling, each unwilling to submit. My stomach churns, but I don’t let it show. He knows too much already. I can’t let him see just how deep I’m in.

Instead, I keep my tone light. “Since I bought the gallery, why don’t we make a trade? Free Selene from Cassian’s leash.”

The Don chuckles, shaking his head as he stands up and walks toward me.

“You think this is about money?” He leans forward.

“You’re a fool, boy. Always have been. Chasing a girl who’s never been yours.

” He steps closer, his shadow falling over me.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?

Playing both sides, sniffing around the Morettis like a stray?

I let you because you’re useful. But this?

” He jabs a finger at me. “This ends now.”

My blood boils, but I hold steady. “Let her go,” I say, voice low. “I bought the gallery. Cassian’s got no claim. Cut her loose from this wedding bullshit.”

He grins, teeth flashing like a wolf’s. “Her marriage seals the Cassian deal. You think I’d unravel that for you? She’s a piece on the board, Sandro. Always has been. You’re just too blind to see it.” He leans in, voice dropping. “That girl is worth more tied to him than she ever was to you.”

The words hit wrong, heavy with something he’s not saying. Then finally having the courage to do something I haven’t been able to ever do, I shove him, hard. He stumbles back, crashing into the desk, papers flying.

“She’s not a fucking piece,” I snarl, stepping over the wreckage. “You talk about her like she’s disposable, but you’re the one selling her off. What kind of man does that to his own blood?”

He laughs again, darker this time. “Blood? You don’t know shit, boy. She is just a whore like her mother was.” He swings, fist clipping my jaw. I stagger, then lunge, slamming him against the wall. Glass shatters somewhere, the room spinning. I pin him, forearm crushing his windpipe.

“Say that again,” I growl, pressing harder. “Call her a whore one more time.”

He chokes, eyes bulging, but there’s a glint there, something cruel, knowing. “You’ll… lose her… anyway,” he rasps. I shove off him, letting him slump to the floor, gasping. He’s wrong. She’s mine. Not his pawn, not Cassian’s bride. Mine. But his words stick, burrowing deep.

My fingers flex at my sides. He knows it’s not just about a deal. Not just about power.

His voice turns cold. “You always were weak when it came to her.”

I let the words settle, let him believe I’ve taken the hit. But inside, something sharp twists. I know what he did. I know the truth. That she was never supposed to make it past that night. That he would have sacrificed her just to keep his secrets buried.

His daughter. His own flesh and blood.

He deserves nothing more than for me to kill him now. To burn this whole house down with him inside it.

Instead, my lips curve up with a sinister smile. “Then I suppose we’ll see who comes out on top.”

He raises his glass in mock salute. “We will.”

I turn on my heel and walk out, my pulse thrumming.

This all ends now.

***

I’m outside their house now, crouched in the shadows, brick cold against my back.

Selene’s voice floats through the window, wrapping around Cassian’s laugh.

My chest splits open, jealousy clawing me raw.

She was with me last night, her hands on me, her breath in my ear, and now she’s playing house with him?

I slam my fist into the wall, skin tearing, blood dripping down my knuckles.

I drive back home feeling my whole world imploding before my very eyes.

I climb the rooftop once I arrive. The city stretches beneath me, Florence glittering in the darkness, mocking me.

I brace my hands against the ledge, head bowed and trying to breath slowly.

Why does it feel like my heart is going to explode from my chest?

I was the one who shattered her heart, let her believe I was the villain. Let her believe I never loved her.

When in truth, I had loved her enough to destroy myself.

Edoardo’s blood was still fresh on my hands, her kill I buried. I let her hate me to keep her breathing.

Propelled by that anger, I fumble with the belt of my pants. It takes me more time than my patience can allow, but I do it, fingers shaking with the need to punish myself for her.

I unzip my pants, hand rough on myself, her name leaves my lips, a curse, a prayer, a punishment. The memory of her tears, the way she looked at me before she ran—

My boxers come off next, pushed down slowly with anger. It’s not a violent anger, really, but when it moves through me, I become powerless.

I pull my eyes open and glance around. Of course, I’m alone on the rooftop patio, but I still search around, paranoid, feral. The art of trying to be extra careful has already been ingrained inside of me, so this means nothing.

Those storm-gray eyes, her happy voice with Cassian, her body under me last night. I groan her name again. It’s twisted, this need eating me alive, but she’s all I’ve ever wanted.

It is all I ever do about the anger and the hate, what I usually do to push down anxiety when I don't have heads to smash in. It’s easy to get in the mood and harden beneath my pants because she is all I think about.

I see her even with my eyes closed. When I keep my mind focused, I’m propelled forward by memories of us together.

I remember the edgy tone of her moans, like she’s unsure what to do with all of the feelings I force into her.

“Want to see how much power you hold over me, huh? Want to see me come undone, how fucked up I am for you?” I growl to the empty air, imagining her smirking, daring me to break.

I cup my cock in my hands and run the insides of my palm across the tip, smearing the pre-come already beading there.

The wind whips up my hair, but the shiver that works its way down my spine isn’t because of that.

It’s because of Selene and my desperation to have her, to own her, to ruin her like she’s ruined me.

My obsession with Selene makes me more of a brute than a man, and I revel in it because that’s who I am and who I’ll always be. She’s driven me mad, and I think she knows this. She fucking revels in it.

You know what you do to me, don’t you? You love watching me rot for you.

She knows how much power she wields, and she uses it to punish me. She holds me captive even as I massage the hardness of my flesh, squeezing until it hurts, until I hiss.