The car ride back was silent.
Alessia stared out the window, the city blurring past like a dream she couldn't wake up from. Her fingers were still numb from the trigger. Her ears still echoed with the scream. She didn't kill the man—but she could have.
And that terrified her more than anything.
Matteo sat beside her, unreadable. No praise. No scolding. Just silence that made her skin crawl.
When they reached the estate, she moved to storm past him—but he caught her wrist. Gently. Almost carefully.
"Let go of me," she hissed.
"I need you to understand something," Matteo said, his voice low but firm. "What you did today wasn't weakness. It was control. Mercy, under power, is a weapon few know how to use."
She yanked her arm free. "Don't try to make it noble. You wanted to see how far I'd go."
"I wanted to see who you are under pressure," he said, stepping closer. "You don't know yet, but I do."
Alessia swallowed hard, trying to hold her ground. "You don't know anything about me."
Matteo studied her for a moment. "Then let me show you something."
He took her downstairs. Past the main halls. Past locked doors and long-forgotten paintings. Into the part of the house that smelled of secrets and shadows.
He opened a door. A private office.
The walls were lined with leather-bound books and glass cases of antique weapons. On the far desk, photos lay spread out—surveillance shots. Her father. Documents. Faces of men she didn't recognize but somehow feared.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Your father didn't just gamble away money," Matteo said. "He sold intel. To our rivals. To people who want me dead."
Alessia stared at the images, her world tilting.
"No… He wouldn't—"
"He did." Matteo's voice was quieter now. "He gave them the shipment locations. That's why my men died. That's why I took you."
Alessia's throat tightened. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because you deserve to know what you're tied to." He stepped closer. "And because I need to know if you're still willing to stay in this world—my world—now that you've seen the truth."
She turned toward him. Something shifted in his eyes—less ice, more fire. He wasn't just a monster in a suit. He was a man who'd lost too much to trust anyone.
And yet here he was, showing her the one weakness that could break him: truth.
"I don't trust you," she said softly.
"I don't need your trust," he replied. "Just your loyalty."
Alessia's chest rose and fell. "And what do I get in return?"
Matteo leaned in. "Protection. Power. Purpose. Maybe even revenge."
There was a pause. A breath. A choice.
And then—Alessia nodded.
Not because she believed him.
But because part of her wanted to.
Night cloaked the estate in stillness, but inside Alessia, a storm brewed.
She stood by her window, watching the rain trace crooked paths down the glass. Somewhere below, Matteo was still awake. She could feel it—like gravity, like the hum of something inevitable pulling her closer.
She'd spent the day locked in silence, pacing between anger and confusion. Her father had betrayed the De Luca family. He had betrayed her. And Matteo… he had shown her the truth. Or at least a carefully crafted version of it.
She hated him for it.
But she hated how much she needed him more.
There was a knock at her door.
She didn't answer.
It opened anyway.
Of course it did.
Matteo stepped in, wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and that ever-present calm that made her want to scream. Or shatter.
"You didn't come to dinner," he said.
"I wasn't hungry."
He walked past her, poured himself a drink from the bar in the corner of her room—her room, now—and turned back, sipping it slowly.
"You don't have the luxury of sulking, Alessia. Not in this house."
She crossed her arms. "I'm not sulking. I'm thinking. About how many more lies are waiting for me under this roof."
Matteo tilted his head. "You think everything is a lie?"
"I know everything in your world is a game."
He stepped forward. "Then start playing."
Their eyes locked. No room for softness between them—only fire.
"Why me?" she asked. "Why not just kill my father and be done with it?"
He didn't flinch.
"Because I saw the way you looked at me the first night," he said. "You weren't afraid. Not really. You were angry. Like someone who's been kept in a cage her whole life and just realized the lock was never real."
Her breath caught. "That doesn't answer the question."
Matteo walked to her, slow and deliberate.
"You're not here because of your father anymore," he said. "You're here because I want you here. And I don't take what I want lightly."
She hated how her body reacted to those words. Hated the warmth rising in her chest. Hated him for making her feel anything at all.
"You're dangerous," she whispered.
"I told you that the first night."
"And if I decide to be dangerous, too?" she asked, stepping closer, challenging him.
He smiled, slow and dark.
"Then, tesoro, we'll burn this whole city down together."
The words hung between them—thick with heat and warning.
And just like that, something shifted.
Not trust.
Not love.
But understanding.
Maybe even alliance.
Or the beginning of something far more dangerous than either of them could control.