Aria didn't sleep.
Not after hearing Isabella's voice, not after watching the CCTV footage of her stepping out of that black car like a ghost reborn. The girl who once braided her hair before school was now a woman swathed in shadows, reborn in the very world that tried to destroy them both.
She stood in the armory beneath the Moretti estate, lacing up her boots with hands that no longer trembled. Dominic had taught her how to shoot. Luca had taught her how to bleed. But this… this was something no one could prepare her for.
Isabella wasn't just another threat.
She was the past wrapped in silk and poison.
Dominic entered the room quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. He watched her for a moment, arms crossed, saying nothing.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said finally.
"I'm thinking I should've left her buried."
Dominic moved closer. "You don't know what she's become. Not really."
"She's working with Adrian. That's all I need to know."
"She saved your life once."
Aria looked up. "And now she's trying to end it."
He didn't argue. He just reached for the tactical vest beside her and handed it over.
"I'm meeting with Giorgio Ricci this afternoon."
She blinked. "I thought you wanted his head on a spike."
"I still do. But the enemy of my enemy is a temporary friend."
Aria frowned. "You think he knows something?"
"I think Giorgio's old-school. Adrian's new blood. That kind of power shift doesn't happen without friction."
"You're going without backup?"
"I'm taking Marco. And you."
Aria froze.
Dominic didn't blink. "If Isabella is with Adrian now, she won't hide for long. And Giorgio always talks more when he sees a beautiful woman he underestimates."
"I'm not bait."
"You're not. You're leverage."
She zipped up the vest. "Fine. But if Giorgio tries anything, I won't wait for your permission."
A small smile curved his lips. "That's what I'm counting on."
—
The meeting took place in a private cigar lounge tucked inside an abandoned opera house downtown. Giorgio always did have a flair for the dramatic.
The room smelled like dust and rich tobacco. Velvet drapes still clung to the windows, and the chandelier above creaked every time the wind moved through the cracks in the stained-glass ceiling.
Giorgio Ricci sat like a king in the center of it all, flanked by two men in dark suits and mirrored sunglasses. He looked older than the last time Aria had seen him—gray now streaked his beard, and his tailored jacket couldn't hide the paunch around his middle. But his eyes? Still as sharp and cruel as ever.
"Dominic," Giorgio said with a grin. "You look like hell."
Dominic didn't return it. "And you look like you've been hiding behind cigar smoke and cowardice."
Giorgio chuckled. "Touché. Sit."
Marco stood by the door, arms folded, eyes never still. Aria remained behind Dominic's shoulder, her presence quiet but unmistakable.
"I heard about your penthouse," Giorgio said, lighting a cigar. "Takes guts to hit a Moretti home."
"You'd know."
"True," Giorgio exhaled a long stream of smoke. "But I prefer a cleaner style. Less… mess."
Dominic leaned forward. "Adrian's working with Viktor. I want to know what you've heard."
"Why would I help you?"
"Because if Adrian gets too powerful, he won't stop with me. He'll come for your docks. Your casinos. Your sons."
Giorgio's smirk faded just a little.
"Word on the street," he said slowly, "is Adrian has someone new in his pocket. A woman. Cold as ice. Smart. Efficient. She's been taking out lieutenants in Berlin and moving arms through Marseille like a ghost."
Dominic didn't blink. "Name?"
"I don't have one. But she's making waves."
Aria stepped forward then, her voice low.
"Did she wear black leather? Red scarf? Walk like she owned the room?"
Giorgio tilted his head. "You've met her."
Aria's eyes hardened. "I grew up with her."
He whistled. "That explains the look in your eyes."
Dominic stood. "Where is Adrian's next shipment coming in?"
Giorgio hesitated.
Dominic's voice dropped. "You owe me, Ricci. From Sicily. From the night I didn't let your son bleed out on that warehouse floor."
Giorgio's jaw clenched.
"Tomorrow night," he muttered. "He's using the old coal yard near the tracks. He's importing through the south tunnels. No cameras. No guards. Just shadows."
Dominic nodded once. "We're done here."
As they turned to go, Giorgio added, "If this girl's who you say she is, be careful. Family has a way of cutting deepest."
—
That night, Aria stood on the rooftop of the Moretti estate, the cold wind tangling in her hair. The city stretched out below like a sea of fire and glass.
She heard footsteps behind her.
Luca.
He leaned on the rail beside her, sipping from a flask.
"You good?" he asked.
"No."
He nodded. "Same."
They stood in silence.
"She used to sing to me when I had nightmares," Aria said suddenly. "Isabella. She used to say no one could hurt me while she was there."
Luca looked at her. "Maybe she still believes that."
"She's working with Adrian."
"Or she's surviving Adrian. There's a difference."
Aria looked at him. "You don't trust her."
"I don't trust anyone who walks out of the grave without a limp."
She gave a faint smile. "Neither do I."
—
The next night came fast.
Too fast.
The coal yard was dead silent when they arrived. Marco took the west perimeter. Luca stayed with the SUV, sniper ready.
Dominic and Aria moved through the darkness, shadows among shadows.
They found the first shipment crate opened already. Empty.
Too easy.
"Something's off," Aria whispered.
Dominic nodded, eyes scanning.
Then a voice rang out from above.
"I knew you'd come."
They looked up.
Isabella stood on the metal catwalk, dressed in black, a gun at her hip, moonlight in her eyes.
She looked like a memory.
But her smile was all venom.
"You never did learn how to let things die," she said softly.
Aria stepped forward. "You're with Adrian now?"
"I'm with the side that knows how to win."
"You were my sister."
"And you left me in the fire."
Dominic raised his gun. "You should walk away, Isabella."
She smirked. "And miss the show?"
A gunshot cracked.
Not from her.
From behind.
Marco's voice shouted through the radio, but it was garbled.
Then silence.
Dominic spun.
Aria froze.
From the shadows behind them, another figure emerged.
Not Viktor.
Not Adrian.
Someone they hadn't seen in over a year.
Mason Carter.
Alive.
And smiling.
"I told you, baby," Mason said, stepping into the moonlight. "You'd never be free of me."
Aria's blood turned cold.
Isabella raised her hand.
And more footsteps echoed through the yard.
Dominic cursed.
It wasn't a trap.
It was a war zone.
And they were surrounded.