The Manila air carried a strange stillness that night.I knew I shouldn’t have left the penthouse. Matteo told me to stay put. But silence had become unbearable, and the air inside felt like it belonged to someone else. I needed space. I needed the city lights to remind me I wasn’t trapped in some nightmare carved out of family legacies and bloodlines.So I walked. Just past the side streets, not far. Just enough to breathe. I didn’t notice the van. Not until it screeched to a halt and the doors flew open.Three men, faces masked. Guns. One grabbed me by the arm, another shoved something cold against my back.“Quiet,” one hissed, dragging me toward the alley.My breath caught. I froze. My mind spun, but my body couldn’t keep up. Everything blurred.But then... Gunfire.A shot cracked through the air, then another.One of the masked men collapsed beside me, blood blooming across his chest like a violent rose.“Down!” someone shouted.I dropped just as another bullet tore past my ear, s
I didn’t sleep after he kissed me.How could I? That kind of closeness doesn't just fade into nothing. It lingers, burns. It rewrites everything you thought was real.His lips still haunted the corner of my mouth, like a secret only my skin could remember.Matteo sat across the room, back turned, pretending the moment hadn’t happened. Pretending like he hadn’t just torn down the walls he built between us only to raise another.“You’ll hate me,” he’d said.That sentence played on repeat in my head like a warning I didn’t know how to obey.The silence between us stretched like an old wound. I wanted to reach for him. To pull the truth out from wherever he’d buried it. But a part of me already knew—whatever he was hiding would break me more than any bullet ever could.The rain outside barely touched the glass. It was soft, like whispers I wasn’t meant to hear. I stared at the window anyway, waiting for something—anything—to make this weight in my chest feel lighter.But the quiet shatter
The air inside the old, forgotten orphanage felt thick, stale with memories and dust. Every step I took seemed to echo, reminding me of the silence that had surrounded this place for years. Matteo was beside me, his presence like a weight on my shoulder, but I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. Not when I was standing on the precipice of something I hadn’t known I was ready to face."Are you sure about this?" Matteo's voice broke the silence, low and hesitant.I looked at him, seeing his concern reflected in the dark shadows under his eyes. He'd never shown this much vulnerability before, and it made me feel like I was drowning in a sea of things I couldn’t control. "I have to know, Matteo. I have to know what happened to me... who I really am."The words tasted bitter on my tongue. It felt like a betrayal to the man I thought was my father. But there was no turning back now. My entire life had been built on lies, and I was too tired to pretend anymore.Matteo sighed, his fingers
The drive was long, the world outside a blur of darkened trees and winding roads. But the silence inside the car was deafening. Matteo’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw set in that familiar way. The tension between us thickened with every passing mile, like it could choke me at any second. I kept my eyes on the dark landscape, though I wasn’t really seeing it. My mind replayed everything—the kiss, the way his lips had burned into mine, his words, his touch. But mostly, it replayed the one thing I didn’t want to think about: the confession. I killed your father. The words echoed in my head, over and over. I couldn’t escape them. My chest felt hollow, like a part of me had just cracked open. And the worst part? I didn’t know if I hated him for it. How could I? If what he said was true, my father wasn’t who I thought he was. But then… did that really change anything? He was still my father. The man who raised me. Who protected me. Who I trusted. And Matteo—he kill
I didn't know how long I'd been staring at the papers scattered across the desk. Minutes? Hours? The numbers blurred together. The words, too. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control, but it was all undeniable. My hands trembled as I flipped through each file, each page revealing more than I ever wanted to know. My father. My own flesh and blood. A man I had trusted with everything I was. Everything I thought I could be. And yet, here it was. Evidence. Corruption. Dark deals. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. I gripped the edge of the desk, steadying myself. But it didn’t help. My pulse was erratic, my breath shallow as I sifted through photo after photo, some from the day I was born. I didn't recognize it at first—at first, I thought it was just a photo from some family gathering. But then I saw the faces behind me. Different kids. Too many of them. Too many unfamiliar faces that didn’t belong. I blinked hard, trying to force the image away, but it stayed. I h
I didn’t expect to feel it. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened. But there it was—the unmistakable weight of betrayal pressing down on my chest. My heart pounded in my ears as Matteo spoke, the words too much to handle. “Rafael lied to me, Amara,” Matteo’s voice was low, tight. He stood across the room, his fingers drumming against the back of a chair. “He told me your father was the mastermind. That killing him would put an end to this. But I think he set your father up.” The words were like a blow to my stomach. I stumbled back, the cold air around us suddenly suffocating. It felt like the ground beneath me had cracked open, pulling me deeper into something I was never meant to be a part of. “Set him up?” I asked, barely able to form the words. “But why?” Matteo’s jaw clenched as if the answer hurt him too. “I don’t know. But your father wasn’t just some henchman, Amara. He had something more important than just his name on the line. And Rafael—he’s been playing bo
The night was silent except for the faint rustling of the wind outside, carrying with it the scent of rain. I sat in the dimly lit bunker, my legs pulled up to my chest, the cold concrete pressing against my skin. My heart felt like a stone lodged deep in my throat, suffocating me.I had died today. Or at least, the world thought I had.The car crash had been staged perfectly—a fiery explosion that left nothing but ash. Matteo had been the grieving man, the one caught in the middle of it all. He had cried on camera, his emotions raw and public, while I sat in the shadows, hidden away in a place that no one could find. It was all too much, too much to process. How could anyone live in a world where everything, even death, was fabricated?I pushed myself off the floor, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room. The cold walls, the old furniture—it all looked so familiar, as if it had been waiting for me all this time. Matteo had prepared this place long ago, anticipating the possibility of so
The morning light crept through the cracked stained-glass windows of the abandoned cathedral, casting colorful streaks across the dusty floor. I could hear the faint rustling of fabric, the quiet footsteps of someone moving through the shadows. My breath was caught somewhere between anticipation and dread, but there was no turning back now. I had come this far—too far, perhaps. I stepped inside, my heart hammering, but I refused to let fear control me. I had to face this. Whatever this was. And then I saw him. Lazaro Reyes. He stood in the center of the room, his silhouette framed by the sun filtering through the stained glass. His face was sharp, cold—too much like the stories I had heard growing up. The leader of one of the most dangerous syndicates in the world, the very man I had been taught to hate. But there was something different about him now, something that made my chest tighten. Lazaro’s eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world around me faded into nothing. I
I had barely stepped into the damp, echoing silence of the abandoned warehouse when the weight of what was about to happen hit me. My breath caught, chest tight with something I couldn’t name. The smell of iron and old leather lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of gunpowder that had almost become synonymous with my life.Matteo Monteverde stood just a few steps ahead, his posture tense but resolute. His eyes were trained on the dark figure ahead of us, waiting. Watching. Calculating.Rafael Aragon.We had tracked him here. This was it. The moment we had prepared for. The moment Matteo had sworn would end with blood on his hands. Rafael had pushed too far this time. He had killed too many of us. Torn families apart, burned lives to the ground. There was no turning back now.But as I watched Matteo take a slow step forward, I saw something in his eyes. A hesitation. A flicker of something I hadn’t expected.“I thought this wou
Rain tapped like soft whispers against the windshield, and the world outside the tinted glass blurred into shadows and smoke.The hearse ahead of us moved slowly, a dark carriage dragging Matteo Monteverde's name through the mud one last time. The streets were lined with umbrellas and whispers, mourners and monsters dressed in black.And somewhere in the crowd... was me.Draped in a long black veil, a wig darkening my hair, I stood still. Silent. My heart beating in sync with the thunder above. My heels sank into the softened earth, and my gloved hands clenched the umbrella handle so tightly I thought it might snap.I didn’t speak. I didn’t blink.I just watched.Watched Rafael Aragon walk up to the podium like a grieving brother. Like a man who didn’t have blood on his hands.He wore mourning well. Black suit, black tie, just a touch of red in his pocket square—because the devil never forgets his color.He look
The second envelope came at dawn. No knock. No footsteps. Just a soft thud, like a breath exhaled through paper, as it landed on the floor of Matteo's room. I didn’t notice it at first. I was dozing off, curled up in the chair, my fingers still loosely holding Matteo's hand. But the sound pulled me out of the fog. There it was. Another letter. Same yellowing parchment. Same shaky ink. But this time, it was addressed to Matteo. I didn’t touch it. Not right away. Something about it felt wrong. Like it breathed. Like it watched. I stared at it as the sun cracked through the slats in the window, slicing light across the tile floor. My heart hammered in slow, heavy thuds. I didn’t know if I was more afraid of what was inside it or the fact that it had gotten in at all. No one had come through that door. No one. And still, it sat there. I finally reached f
The blood wouldn’t stop.It soaked through my fingers, warm and terrifying, as I pressed harder against Matteo’s chest. I couldn’t even tell where the bullet had entered anymore—only that the bleeding wouldn’t slow, and his breathing was getting shallower.“Faster!” I screamed over my shoulder, my voice cracking. “We’re losing him!”Emil didn’t reply. He just drove harder, weaving through the barely lit roads like every second could kill us.The safehouse wasn’t far now. A medical one—hidden deep in the hills, off-grid, fully equipped and used only for the most desperate moments.And this was desperate.I stared down at Matteo’s face. His lashes twitched against his pale skin, sweat dotting his forehead. His lips were tinted red.“Stay with me, please.”My voice was smaller now. I didn’t care about pride or anger or what happened yesterday. Not when his life was slipping through my hands.The van jolted
Amara’s POVI didn’t sleep that night.The cut on my palm had dried into a thin, ugly line, but the ache didn’t stop there. It spread through my chest like rot, thick and impossible to escape from. Matteo’s face wouldn’t leave my head—the way his eyes hardened, how his voice cracked when he said goodbye.It played on repeat. Every blink, every breath, it was there.“You don’t understand.”“Don’t.”“I trusted you.”“I’m done with you.”I could still hear it.I sat alone on the cold floor of the safehouse, the silence so loud it nearly screamed. Outside the window, dawn hadn’t even tried to break yet. Just black sky and heavier shadows.He didn’t even let me explain.But maybe he didn’t need to.I had cut myself open for Matteo—literally—and he still walked away like none of it mattered. Maybe to him, it didn’t.I wanted to scream.I wanted to smash something.But more than anythin
Amara's POVThe night was too quiet, too calm, like the eye of the storm had passed over and now we were just waiting for it to rip everything apart. But there was no escaping. Not anymore.I stood in the dimly lit room, my fingers shaking as I stared at the blade in my hand. Lazaro’s voice echoed in my mind, his offer still ringing in my ears. I had no choice. None."Everything Rafael stole from me, I’ll give it to you," I had promised him, my voice steady despite the chaos in my heart. "In exchange for Matteo’s freedom."Lazaro had agreed, his eyes gleaming with that sick satisfaction that made my skin crawl. But there was a price. Always a price."A blood pact," he had said, his voice low, deliberate. "Sealed with loyalty."I had tried to push back, to make some kind of excuse, but Lazaro wasn’t a man who dealt in excuses. He was a man of demands, of terms I couldn’t refuse. And as much as it repulsed me, I knew I had to play
Amara’s POV"Tell me," I said.His silence terrified me more than any gun ever pointed at my head.Matteo stood in front of me, drenched from the rain, shoulders slumped like he’d just buried someone. There was something haunted in his eyes—something I hadn’t seen before. Not even when he thought I died.He opened his mouth. Closed it. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t what I expected."He knows you’re alive."The breath left my lungs. I stepped back, the walls of the safehouse suddenly too close, too tight."Rafael?"He nodded once. "He showed me a picture. Said he’s known for a while. He’s just been waiting.""Waiting for what?"Matteo didn’t answer right away. He looked down at his hands, like they were covered in blood."He gave me a choice."His voice cracked. My heart did too."What kind of choice?"He looked at me then. Really looked. And I knew. I knew before he said it. I felt it like a scream in my bones."He wants me to kill you," Matteo said. "Seven days. Or he’ll kill
Matteo’s POVThe rain had started again. Not the kind that invited umbrellas or window-side poems—this was the cold, punishing kind, the kind that made everything feel heavier than it already was.I sat in the backseat of the black Escalade, silent as the engine idled near the dockyard. Nico was in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel, eyes watching the storm.He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. We both knew what tonight was. Not a truce. Not a conversation.A reckoning.“You sure about this?” Nico finally asked, voice low.“No,” I said, and meant it.He gave me a look in the rearview mirror, then turned off the engine.We walked the rest of the way.The abandoned warehouse stood like a beast’s carcass—stripped, skeletal, looming. Inside, only one overhead bulb flickered above a steel table, two chairs waiting like vultures.He was already there. Rafael Aragon. Wearing black gloves, sipping from a paper cup like he wasn’t the one who had just pulled strings that nearly end
The air inside the bunker tasted stale, heavy like it was soaked with grief I was still trying to swallow. I pulled the sleeves of my jacket over my hands, staring blankly at the cracked floor. There was a war outside, a silent one, moving like a shadow across the city.And Matteo Vergara was playing the part of the broken man.I saw glimpses of it on the small TV in the corner. His black suit. His bloodshot eyes. His voice shaking as he gave statements to the media. The world mourned for him, the heartbroken fiancé who had lost everything in one cruel twist of fate.Except none of it was real.I was still here. Hiding. Breathing. Burning from the inside out."You ready?" a deep voice asked from the doorway.I turned my head and saw Nico leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips. He was one of Matteo’s trusted men, someone who had been with him long before all this chaos started."As ready as I'll ever be," I said, pushing myself to my feet.The past f