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I stare at her, but she keeps going. “The last girl that got tangled up with him. She ran. Fled the country to get away from him. Not the island, the country, Jordyn.”

Her hands press against my arms, her tone now barely a whisper.“And now he’s looking at you the same way and repeating the same pattern. And I’m terrified, Jordyn. I’m terrified he’s going to do to you what he did to her, or worse.”

The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating like a heavy fog that refuses to lift. My heart is pounding so fiercely against my ribs that I’m afraid it might stop altogether. That’s a lot of information for one person to process in a couple of minutes.

The names…Ares, Romano, the crash, the girl who supposedly vanished across borders because of Ares, and the Russos being part of the Mafia. Each word echoes in my mind, a cacophony of chaos.

My throat closes around a thousand words I can’t bring myself to say. But it all makes sense now, why Ares has been pushing me away, why he keeps referring to himself as a monster. One by one, everything starts to fall into place.

I draw in a shaky breath, swallowing down the storm rising inside me.

“I need to go,” I manage to say, my voice barely steady. Bianca’s eyes soften, concern etched into their depths, but the worry never leaves them.

“Jordyn—”

“Please,” I insist, my voice trembling as if on the verge of breaking. “I can’t...do this right now. I need time to process everything. My head is a mess. I need to be alone, to clear my thoughts.”

I gently pull away, feeling her hands slip reluctantly from my arms as I turn and walk away, each step heavy with uncertainty.

What am I supposed to believe here? Do I trust my instincts, which tell me that beneath Ares’s darkness and icy demeanour, he’s a good man, or do I heed my sister’s warnings, insisting he’s a heartless killer who will inevitably hurt me?

How can I believe that when all he's ever done is save me and push me away because he’s convinced himself that he’s a monster, undeserving of my affection?

Christ. How can something feel like the truth and still make no fucking sense at all?

My mind is a mess of sharp images and louder voices, Ares’s hands on my skin, gentle where they shouldn’t have been. The way he looked at me like I was something fragile. The way he held back . That can’t be the same man Bianca is describing. That can’t be the same man who someone had to run from.

But it is.

It has to be.

Because if it’s not, then what the hell am I even doing?

My chest aches with the weight of it all. The pieces don’t fit. None of it fits. And yet it’s all pointing to the same truth I don’t want to face.

Ares was raised in darkness. That’s what she said, and he’s confirmed it himself many times. And now I’m standing here with blood on my hands I didn’t spill, and I still want to run back to him like he’s the only place I’ll ever be safe.

What does that say about me?

What kind of girl falls for the monster right after he crawled out of the pit?

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the panic creeping up my spine.

I can’t do this, not here. Not with Bianca staring at me like she’s watching me fall apart in real time.

I have to know the truth. Not her version. Not Enzo’s.

His.

My mind is in a state of turmoil as I continue to walk.

No direction, no plan, just away. Away from the villa, from Bianca, from the echo of Luciano’s announcement still ringing in my ears.

By the time I realise where I am, I’m standing in the middle of town. The sun is too bright and beating down on me, the air too still. Tourists drift past me with gelato and shopping bags, completely unaware that my whole world just detonated.

I duck into a quiet café near the edge of the square, one with worn chairs and chipped tables that don’t match. I find a corner and order something I won’t drink.

And then I pull out my phone, pull up a search engine and type...

“Russo family Sicily.”

My finger taps the search button.

Nothing unusual.

Just polished websites. Corporate profiles. Charities and glossy interviews. A family business empire that spans wine, fashion, and luxury real estate and hotels.

The kind of presence that looks too perfect to touch.

Then I type, “Ares Russo.” And hit search.

Nothing new. No scandals. No tabloid mentions. No police records or mentions of arrests.

Just one photo, him in a tailored suit at some gala smoking a cigar, with Enzo by his side and Luciano in the background. They look… in every sense of the word... untouchable .

Clean.

A little too clean, if you ask me.

My stomach churns as I keep scrolling, digging for something, anything , that will validate the storm inside me. But there’s nothing. No cracks. No blood. No truth.

It’s like trying to scream in a soundproof room.

I sit back in my chair, phone dangling in my hand, heart pounding in my throat.

Either Bianca’s right… and this family is powerful enough to erase their sins from the surface of the world, or I’m losing my damn mind.

And I can’t figure out which is worse.

I do know one thing, though.

If I want answers, I’m not going to find it on the internet. I’m going to have to go straight to the source.

No more whispers. No more second-hand truths. No more trying to piece together something that doesn’t want to be found.

If Ares is the heartless monster Bianca says he is, then I need to look him in the eye and see it for myself.

I stand, heart thudding, legs shaky but moving.

The café falls away behind me. The sunlight turns colder. And every step back toward the estate feels heavier than the last.

Because I have no idea what I’m walking into.

Not really.

But my only saving grace, the only thing keeping my feet moving toward that wrought-iron gate, is the belief that Ares wouldn’t hurt me.

He would kill for me. Burn for me.

But he wouldn’t hurt me.

That much I’m certain of.

Even now, after everything Bianca said... after everything I saw at that table, he’s still the only person I trust to tell me the truth.

And maybe that makes me reckless.

Maybe that makes me stupid.

But I’m done being scared of what I don’t know.

It’s time I walked into the pit and asked the devil himself.