เข้าสู่ระบบNICOI stare at the briefcase.At the photographs. At the man who claims to be my father. At all of it laid out on the table between us like evidence in a case I did not ask to be part of. None of it changes anything. At least that is what I tell myself, standing in a room in Russia looking at pictures of two newborn boys being held by a man in a mask."This isn't going to do shit."The Alchemist remains silent. I look at him. "You think showing me a few old photographs is going to make me suddenly accept you?" I shake my head. "You think I'm going to walk out of here and tell Luca that we have a father we've never known about?" I almost laugh at the image of it. "What do you think Luca would do if he heard all this?" I don't wait for an answer because I already know it and so does he. "He'd put a bullet through your head."The Alchemist doesn't react.I step closer. "And that's exactly why you didn't go through him first, isn't it?" His head tilts slightly. "You know how unpredictabl
NICOI turned toward the door. I had heard enough. More than enough. I didn't care what he claimed to know about me or Luca, didn't care about his inheritance speech, and I certainly wasn't about to steal a ledger for a man who had materialized out of nowhere and expected me to take his word for something this large. I took two steps."Nico."I stopped. His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be — it had the particular quality of a voice that has never needed volume to make people stop. I turned my head slowly.. "I left you and Luca in Dante's father's care."I stared at him. "What?""You heard me." He walked toward me, his footsteps measured and unhurried against the marble. "How did you think you ended up growing up with Dante?"I said nothing."By accident?" A faint trace of something moved through his voice. "No." He stopped a few feet away. "I made it happen."My brows pulled together. "You?""Me." He pointed toward me. "I made sure Dante's father—Giuseppe took you both in. I m
NICOI was beginning to hate invitations.Especially invitations from the Alchemist. Every time one of his men came looking for me I had the same thought before I could stop it — what the hell does he want now? I had already spent more time in Russia than I intended. More time than was comfortable. More time than I could justify on the basis of an alliance meeting that should have concluded days ago.I wanted answers about my parents. I wanted to understand what Salvatore had actually been telling me in that café. And somewhere in this building, in this country, behind whatever walls the Alchemist had put between us, I needed to find Vivian. None of that was something I was going to hand to this man willingly. Not yet. Maybe not ever.The doors opened. I stepped inside alone. The Alchemist stood near the enormous windows with his back toward me — the same position he always seems to choose, like he has decided that making people look at his back while they approach is a kind of power.
DANTE.The house is quieter than it has been in years.No phones ringing. No meetings running over time. No men waiting outside my office with problems that apparently cannot survive until morning. Just my family, in the sitting room, with toys scattered across the carpet and the particular low-key chaos of small children who have decided that evening is their most energetic hour.I sit back and watch Sofia on the floor with the children. She has been working all day — I know because I know her schedule and I know the look she carries at the end of a long one — and somehow she still found the energy to come down here and be present for this. That is a thing about her that I have never fully gotten used to, how she shows up for them even when she has already given most of what she has. But I can see the worry underneath it. The way she checks her phone when she thinks nobody is watching. The small thing that happens in her expression when the screen shows nothing. She has been doing it
VIVIANPain has settled into every part of me now, the kind that stops being sharp and becomes constant instead — my back burning with every movement, muscles still tight from the fight, even breathing too deeply pulling at things I would rather not think about. I have been in this room long enough that I have memorized the ceiling.I turn my head toward the door. Still locked. Of course it is. I have no idea how long I have been here. No windows, no natural light, no way to track time except by the gaps between when someone comes to check on me. The Alchemist has not returned. I cannot decide if that is a good thing or a bad one. Probably both, the way most things with him are both simultaneously.The door opens. Malachi walks in carrying a tray. He stops when he sees me sitting against the headboard, and his eyes move over me once — quick, assessing — and then away. He does not ask how I feel. I look terrible and we both know it and saying so would not help either of us."Eat."I lo
NICOThe room is quiet and oddly peaceful, which is exactly what makes me keep my guard up.I scan everything as I enter — the layout, the exits, the positions of anything that could be used or could be a problem. Not paranoia. Habit. The kind that keeps you alive long enough to develop other habits. The Alchemist inviting me here alone was already a problem before I walked through the door. I know it. He probably knows I know it. That is the kind of meeting this is. He sits behind a large dark desk, face hidden behind the same mask I have seen since I arrived. The only things visible are his eyes — sharp, calm, doing the same kind of reading I am doing, just with considerably more patience about it. I take the chair opposite him. Neither of us speaks. The silence stretches for a few seconds and then he leans back in his chair with the ease of a man who has been in this room many times and always controlled what happened in it."You and I both know you didn't come here simply because
“NOT ALL DEMONS LIVE IN HELL.”SOFIA.I must have dozed off at some point because I woke to the sound of my bedroom door opening.My eyes snap open and I sit up quickly, my heart already racing before I'm even fully awake. The room is still dark but there's a stream of light from the hallway, and M
IF I CAN STILL BREATHE, I’M FINE.SOFIA.I can't sleep.I should be sleeping. I should have taken a pill or had a glass of wine or done something to knock myself out so I wouldn't be lying here obsessing over things that aren't my business. But I can't. My mind won't stop racing, won't stop wonderi
SOFIA.IF I TOLD YOU MY SECRETS YOU WOULD NEVER LOOK AT ME THE SAME.The thing about living with a man who doesn't love you is that you become very good at reading silences.I can tell the difference between Marco's "I'm working" silence and his "I wish you weren't here" silence. Between his "I'm t
“I WANT HIM TO KNOW THAT I AM HERE FOR HIM WITH OPEN HEART, OPEN MOUTH AND OPEN LEGS.”SOFIADante didn’t waste a second.He dragged me across the seat and into his lap, one big hand cupping the back of my neck as his mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss was deep, hungry, seven years of pent-up nee







