Luciano POV Sleep refused to come. I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, the image of Aria locked in that room burning behind my eyes. Every time I closed them, I saw her tears, her desperate pleas, and the way she had touched my face like she truly cared. The evidence was real. I had seen the messages, the transfers, the photos. Yet something inside me kept fighting against it. I wanted to believe her. I wanted her to be innocent because the thought of her betraying me hurt more than any bullet ever could. I sat up and ran my hands roughly through my hair. My chest felt tight, anger and doubt twisted together until I could no longer stay still. I got out of bed, grabbed a bottle of rum from the cabinet, and poured myself a large glass. The liquid burned down my throat. I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs. Still, her face would not leave me. “Damn you, Aria,” I muttered. I could not stay in this house tonight. Not with her locked away j
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