SHADOWS AND TRUTHS

Darkness. Heavy, wet, suffocating.

Elena tried to move, but stone and dust pressed down on her legs. The air was thick with earth and smoke. Every breath stung. She coughed once, the sound echoing down the collapsed tunnel. Somewhere above, rain still fell, muffled and distant.

“Don’t move,” a low voice ordered.

Alessandro.

A dim light flickered—a weak phone screen. Its blue glow caught the edge of his jaw, streaked with grime and blood.

“You’re alive,” she whispered.

“Barely,” he said, pulling rubble away. “You passed out.”

When her legs came free, she stood shakily. “Lucia?”

His jaw tightened. “No sign of her. The tunnel collapsed before she reached us.”

He looked up where the ceiling had caved in, rain trickling through the cracks. “We can’t go back. The only way is down.”

The tunnel split ahead—one side blocked, the other sloping into darkness. She followed him downward. Their footsteps echoed, soft and steady. The air grew colder. She could feel the silence between them like a weight.

Finally, she spoke. “You’re sure my father killed your brother?”

Alessandro didn’t stop walking. “I’m sure.”

“How? What if someone wanted you to believe that?”

He turned, eyes narrowing. “You think I built my life on lies?”

“I think you built it on pain,” she said. “And maybe you stopped asking questions.”

He looked at her for a long moment before turning away. “You sound like someone who’s never buried a brother.”

“I sound like someone who’s still willing to listen.”

They walked in silence until the tunnel opened into a wide stone chamber. A rusted gate stood ajar. Beyond it glowed the faint light of a candle.

Alessandro drew his gun and pushed the gate open. “Stay behind me.”

The space beyond looked ancient—arched ceilings, cracked mosaics, empty stone coffins lining the walls. In the center, a candle burned beside a worn leather journal.

Elena moved toward it despite his warning. The air felt cold, but her curiosity burned hotter. She recognized the handwriting instantly.

Her father’s.

She reached for the journal. Alessandro caught her hand. “Wait.”

“I have to see it,” she said.

He hesitated, then let go.

The ink had bled in places, but one sentence stood clear:

> If she finds this, tell her the truth about my brother. Tell her I tried to protect them both.

Elena’s heart pounded. “He knew we’d find this.”

Alessandro scanned the next page, his expression darkening. He swallowed hard. “He didn’t kill my brother,” he said quietly. “He tried to save him.”

Her stomach dropped. “Then who did?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze fixed on the candle flame. “Someone inside my family. Someone who’s still alive.”

Before she could speak, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The cracked screen glowed faintly. He answered, voice tight. “Lucia?”

Her voice came weak but clear. “They have me. Don’t come up—they’re waiting.”

“Where?” he demanded.

Static. Then silence.

Elena’s pulse raced. “We have to help her.”

“If we go up, we die,” he said. “They’ll expect that.”

“Then what?”

“We make them think we’re already dead.”

He blew out the candle. Darkness swallowed them again. That was when they heard it—boots grinding on gravel, voices echoing closer.

Alessandro grabbed her hand. “Quiet.”

The footsteps stopped beyond the gate. A man’s voice spoke, calm, steady, too familiar.

> “Alessandro De Luca. Come out. Your sins have caught up with you.”

Elena froze.

Her father.

He sounded cold, nothing like the man she remembered. Alessandro’s grip on her hand tightened. “He’s not here to save you.”

A beam of light cut through the dark, glancing off the journal left on the table. One of Salvatore’s men shouted, “They’ve been here!”

Alessandro pushed Elena toward the far tunnel. “Go!”

She stumbled forward, running blindly as gunfire cracked behind them. Stone splintered. Dust filled her mouth. Alessandro fired back once, twice, the echoes rolling like thunder.

The tunnel twisted sharply and opened into a vast cavern. Underground water shimmered faintly. A wooden platform stretched over the black pool.

Elena caught her breath. “Where are we?”

“An escape route,” he said. “Old smuggler paths.”

A gunshot whined past her shoulder. She ducked. Alessandro grabbed her arm, dragging her behind a column. “Keep your head down.”

Another voice called out from the shadows across the cavern.

> “End of the road, De Luca.”

Elena’s eyes adjusted enough to see two figures emerge. Lucia stood trembling, pale, a gun pressed against her temple. The man holding her was tall, dressed in gray, calm as stone.

> “Drop your weapon,” he said. “Or she dies.”

Alessandro froze. “Who are you?”

The man smiled faintly. “Someone who does what your father can’t. Finish what he started.”

He pressed the gun harder against Lucia’s head. “Drop it.”

“Don’t!” Lucia cried.

Elena stepped forward. “Please, stop—she’s bleeding—”

The man in gray ignored her. “Alessandro De Luca,” he said. “Your empire is done. The Romano name dies with you.”

Alessandro’s voice was quiet. “Tell my father he should’ve done this himself.”

“You think this is his plan?” The stranger laughed softly. “He’s the bait. You’re the prey.”

Water dripped from the ceiling, rippling across the dark pool. Alessandro’s finger twitched on the trigger. Elena could see the choice in his eyes: shoot and risk Lucia’s life, or hesitate and lose everything.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

But he didn’t look at her—he looked past her, toward the rising shadows at the tunnel mouth. More men were coming.

The man in gray tilted his head, amused. “Still deciding? Let me help.”

He pulled Lucia closer to the edge of the platform. The wood creaked beneath their weight.

“You shoot, she falls. You wait, you die. Choose.”

Elena’s mind raced. The air smelled of oil and damp stone. Somewhere above, the structure groaned. She remembered the tunnels collapsing before.

“Alessandro,” she said, eyes widening. “The ceiling—”

Too late. A sharp crack split the air. Water poured through the stone in a torrent. The man in gray turned toward the noise, distracted for an instant.

Alessandro fired.

The shot hit the lantern hanging beside them. It burst, spilling flame across the wooden boards. Fire raced toward the edge of the platform.

“Run!” he shouted.

Elena bolted as the floor gave way. The man in gray vanished in a splash of water. Lucia screamed, her hand slipping from Alessandro’s grasp. The platform tilted, half of it sinking into the black flood.

“Elena!” Alessandro’s voice echoed, rough with panic.

She turned back. He was still on the collapsing boards, trying to reach Lucia, who clung to a beam half-submerged.

“Go!” he yelled. “Get to the passage!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

The fire flared brighter, smoke filling the cavern. He met her eyes across the distance—an unspoken command, a plea. Then the structure shuddered and collapsed.

Elena dove forward, grabbing onto a chain hanging from the ceiling, her body half in the freezing water. The current pulled

hard, dragging her toward the dark.

“Alessandro!” she screamed.

She thought she heard his reply—one word, swallowed by the roar.

Then the water swallowed everything else.