Giordano’s POV“Move the damn veil to the left—do I look like I want my mother thinking I’m marrying a damn scarecrow?”The villa smelled like sweat, roses, and too much fucking money.Dressmakers swarmed the east wing like bees. Steam hissed from irons, scissors clicked, lace floated through the air like spider silk. White everywhere—veils, candles, petals on the goddamn marble. Even the fountain had been drained and filled with lilies.“Watch the hem!” I barked at the tailor, nearly spilling my espresso. “I said floor-length, not funeral.”Servants jumped. One dropped a tray.“Pick it up. And if it happens again, I’ll have your fingers sent to the cake designer.”My voice echoed through the hall like a blade. My wedding was tomorrow. The Virgin Bride. The Holy Union. The Rebirth of the Giordano name.And not one fucking thing was going right.I was adjusting my cufflinks when I heard tires screech outside. Not the slow roll of an expected guest. A whip-sharp, dirt-kicking stop.I tu
Katarina’s POVThe world was soft and spinning.I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or dying, but the arms carrying me felt like home. Strong. Solid. Warm. My head was tucked against a bare chest that smelled like sandalwood and something darker—like danger and blood.I blinked slowly. The lights above me blurred. A hallway? Was I still in that nightmare lab?No. The ceiling wasn’t buzzing. No needles. No voices whispering commands.Just him.A man.Vittorio?My eyes slipped shut again.When I opened them next, we were outside. The air was colder, cleaner. Trees above us. Car doors slamming. Someone cursing softly.Another man?I blinked harder and caught sight of him through the haze—he looked like Vittorio but leaner. Same sharp cheekbones. Same mouth. Same hands. But he moved differently. Looser. More like smoke than fire.Two Vittorios.What the actual hell?I tried to speak, but my mouth was full of sand. My tongue didn’t move right. Everything hurt.“I think I saw her... Selena. In
Vittorio POV Operation: Save KatarinaThe first man begged. The second didn’t have time.The safehouse basement smelled like sweat and rubber gloves. Metal trays clinked softly. The twin assistants—one blond and shaky, the other cocky and silent—were tied to metal chairs, wrists duct-taped, mouths gagged.“They’re not killers,” Valentino said, rolling his sleeves. “Just smart enough to work for one.”I didn’t answer. I just nodded at Toma, the underground surgeon.“You got the faces?” I asked.He held up two silicone masks, perfect copies. Every line. Every wrinkle. Down to the pores. “Fresh and ready. You sure you want to do this? These two don’t look like much.”“I don’t need them to be much,” I said. “I need them dead.”Val shoved a rag into the blond one’s mouth.“I’ll make it quick,” he whispered.It wasn’t. The metal table was cold beneath the dead assistant’s body. Blood soaked through his lab coat. His ID badge dangled from my hand. Valentino stood behind me, arms crossed,
Selena POVThe first time Ryder showed me Katarina’s father, I couldn’t handle it.I’d walked into that dark room thinking I was tough, thinking I could stomach whatever truth he had waiting. But I hadn’t expected to see that man tied to a chair, mouth duct-taped, bruises blooming across his face like rot. I didn’t expect the guilt. The disgust. The raw hatred that burned in my gut like acid.I ran.I left without looking back.Went home. Locked my doors. Sat in the shower for an hour until the water went cold. Tried to make sense of what I’d seen, but none of it made sense. None of it felt real.But the next day, when Lucas told me to sit tight again, to wait until he “got clearance,” I cracked.Kat was still missing. Lucas was spinning in circles. And I—I had seen a key chained to a damn chair, and I left him there.So, I made a decision.I was going to finish what I started.It took me three days to bring Ryder back. Three days since I’d triggered Liam again. Three days since I fo
Vittorio POV I couldn’t sleep.The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that felt like someone pressing a pillow over your face. Every time I closed my eyes, she was there.Katarina. Bloody. Screaming. Chained to a cold steel bed, whispering my name like a dying prayer.“Vittorio…” My eyes snapped open again.My cane leaned against the bedside table, untouched. The bottle of scotch sat next to it, half-drunk and useless. I wasn’t drunk. I was wired. Pacing. My legs were fully healed.I’d ripped the sheets off the bed three times tonight. Pillows were torn. My chest felt too tight. Like grief was chewing its way out of my ribs.She was somewhere out there. Hurting. Alone. And I was here. Breathing.Valentino walked in without knocking—shirtless, tired, holding a steaming cup of black coffee. “You look like shit”.“No shit,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “She’s in my head. Every time I close my eyes, she’s there. I think… I think she’s screaming.”Val leaned on the wall,
Katarina POV At The Experiment LabClick.The straps on my wrists groaned as I pulled against them. Plastic—tight. Too tight. My skin was raw underneath.The lights overhead weren’t normal hospital lights. They buzzed. Flickered. Like they were alive and watching me. The whole room smelled like burnt wires, bleach, and metal that had seen too much blood.My mouth tasted like cotton. Or old pennies.The doctor stood behind the glass, his shadow moving like a smear across the wall.Then the door creaked open.He came in like a ghost—long lab coat, gloves on, clipboard in one hand, syringe in the other. His shoes didn’t make a sound. That was the worst part. Even the floor didn’t dare piss him off.“Good morning, subject K.” His voice scratched the air. “Today’s the big one. We wipe. We plant. We smile.”I didn’t answer.He smiled. The kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Still holding on? Brave. But exhausting, no?”I stared at the ceiling. There was a water stain shaped like a devil’s