Page 24 of Intrigue (Dark Syndicate #4)

Alessandro

I shouldn’t have called her.

I know it the second my own voice echoes back at me, taunting through the voicemail replay. Every word sounds wrong—too much or not enough. I should have left it alone, let her stay wrapped up in her fake little fairytale with Cassian. But I couldn’t.

Now, pacing the rooftop, I replay every syllable, every breath between my words. Her name still sticks in my throat like glass. I can’t tell if I was warning her or pulling her back into me. Maybe both.

The cigarette between my fingers burns to the filter before I even register the taste of smoke. I toss it over the ledge, watching the ember spiral down, swallowed by the streets below.

I’m to do the right thing and let her go. But I can’t.

A knock at the metal door behind me breaks through the static in my head. Bianchi steps through, his face unreadable, which only means one thing.

Bad news.

He doesn’t waste time. “It’s the gallery.”

I already know. My body tenses before he even finishes.

“Morettis?” The Morettis haven’t let Edoardo’s death go.

Despite everything I’d done to bury it—smashed the phone, staged the scene, sent Selene running, but they’re like dogs with a bone.

And if they figure out she’s the one who stuck the knife in him, or the other worse truth… she’s dead. No question.

He nods. “Two of their men were sniffing around. Didn’t take anything, but they left something behind.”

Bianchi hands me a folded scrap of paper. My fingers tighten before I even open it.

The Marconi girl bleeds Moretti red.

The words are jagged, scrawled fast, but they may as well be a gun pressed to Selene’s temple. My pulse pounds against my ribs, the weight of five years of buried truths clawing their way to the surface.

They know something.

Maybe not the full truth, not yet, but it’s enough to get her killed. And if they dig any deeper—if they confirm what I’ve spent years making sure stayed dead—Selene’s body will be in a ditch before she even knows why.

“They’re onto her,” I say, voice low, turning to Bianchi. “How’d they get this close?”

He shrugs, stubbing out his cigarette on the desk. “Beats me. Could be they’ve been watching longer than we thought. Edoardo’s death never sat right with them.”

I slam my fist into the wall, plaster cracking under my knuckles. “They don’t get to touch her. Not now, not ever.”

Bianchi nods “What’s the play?”

I grip the note, crushing it in my fist. There’s no waiting. No more games.

“We set a trap.”

***

The gallery is still and cold when I arrive, the scent of old paint and polished wood clinging to the air. The main lights are off, but the emergency ones cast eerie streaks of orange along the floor, cutting across empty display cases and paintings that don’t belong to Cassian anymore.

They belong to me.

I walk the length of the room, silent, letting my footsteps announce my presence. If the Morettis left men behind, they’ll hear me before they see me.

I almost hope they did.

Bianchi flanks me, his steps just as measured. He stops at the back office door, nudging it open with the barrel of his gun. The space inside is untouched, save for a single chair slightly out of place and a vent cover hanging loose.

“They were looking for something.”

“They found more than they expected.”

I kneel by the vent, running my fingers over the edges. There’s no dust, no sign of old neglect. They opened it.

My gut tightens.

Bianchi shifts beside me. “They knew what they were looking for.”

That’s what bothers me.

The Morettis have never been subtle, but this isn’t their usual brand of recklessness. This was deliberate. They weren’t just fishing for leverage. They were confirming something.

My chest tightens with the weight of it. Edoardo’s death has always been a fracture line—dangerous but manageable. But this? This isn’t just about revenge or territory.

This is about Selene.

And if they know about—

Yes. I guess it’s time to let them know the real truth. But I’ve always been one to go big.

I push to my feet, jaw locking. “We burn it.”

Bianchi doesn’t blink. “The whole thing?”

“We lure both of them back first. Give them something to chase.” I nod, forcing myself to think, to be precise. “Make them believe they’re getting closer. Then we end it.”

“How?”

I kick open the storage door, revealing stacks of crates, some Marconi shipments, some just junk. “They think this place is a front. Let’s make it one. Spread word we’ve got a big drop tonight. Don would know I’m not bluffing. Lure them in.”

Bianchi hesitates. “And then?”

I grab a can of accelerant from the shelf, the kind we use to torch evidence. “We burn it down. Them with it.”

His eyes widen, but he nods. “Risky. Don Marconi won’t like losing the gallery.”

“Don Marconi can shove it,” I snap, sloshing the liquid over the crates. “He’s the reason she’s in this mess.”

Bianchi nods once, already on his phone. I turn away, fingers flexing, reaching for another cigarette I don’t light.

Selene thinks she still has time to decide. To choose between this life and whatever fantasy she’s built with Cassian.

She doesn’t.

By the time this night is over, her choice won’t matter anymore.

Bianchi standsby the door, his gun loose in his hand.

As I work, my thoughts zero in on that night five years ago.

Edoardo’s blood pooling on the floor, Selene shaking over him, knife still in her hand.

I’d walked in, saw the phone, read the texts.

“Tonight. After the announcement. She won’t see it coming.

” Her own father signed off on it. I had to move fast and wipe the scene, break her heart, send her running. It worked. Until now.

“They’ll be here soon. How long till they bite?” I ask Bianchi, turning back to him.

We had been able to lure Don here too. I just made it seem like the Don was about to lose his very important shipment I had stolen at the docks earlier. He and some of his men are no doubt on their way now. What he doesn't know is that when he comes here, I’ll let the real truth out.

The Don is coming to kill me. The Moretti’s are coming to kill him.

“Hour, maybe less,” he says, pocketing his phone. “Word’s out. They’ll come.”

“Good.When they show, we hit them hard. No survivors.”

He nods. “What about Cassian?”

He’s not my problem, yet. But if he tries to play hero, if he gets in my way, I won’t hesitate.

He was never meant to keep her. That ring on her finger is an insult, a lie she keeps telling herself.

And when she sees how quickly her perfect world falls apart, she’ll have no choice but to face the truth.

“If he gets in my way, he’ll meet his end.”

Bianchi shifts beside me. “You sure about this?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life. They wanted answers,” I murmur. “Let’s give them something to find.”

Bianchi signals our men waiting outside. Within minutes, the Morettis and Don will arrive, drawn in by the chaos, walking straight into the ambush we’ve set.

I check my gun, the weight of it grounding me. This ends tonight.

Selene doesn’t know it yet, but I just decided her future for her.