In the living room of the Kaleys' mansion, the tension clung to the air like smoke. The faint chirping of birds outside only seemed to sharpen the silence within. Alessia's mother paced restlessly across the polished floor, her heels striking sharp echoes against the marble that carried through the vast chamber. Each sound was like a drumbeat to her racing pulse. Her hands twisted together, clammy and trembling despite her desperate effort to appear composed.
"Would you stop pacing, Melissa?" Mrs. Kaley's voice cut through the room, smooth but edged with irritation. She sat poised in a velvet armchair with a porcelain teacup balanced elegantly in her fingers. The faint fragrance of her jasmine tea drifted into the room.
"She has a point," said one of the men seated beside her. His voice was calm but heavy, the kind that demanded silence. He is the head of the Ashford family. He looked as though he had stepped out of a portrait, with slicked black hair, double double-breasted grey suit without a crease, and a silk pocket square perfectly folded. When he shifted, the gleam of his gold signet ring caught the light like fire. "Anxiety will not solve anything. We were fortunate to escape unscathed. We should have considered that Moretti would have so many men on standby."
The second man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He is the head of the Romano family, and he radiated quiet menace beneath his elegance. His charcoal suit carried a faint scent of expensive cologne, and his crimson silk tie stood out starkly against the hard angles of his jaw. A polished silver watch glinted on his wrist as his dark eyes narrowed.
"Still," he said, his voice low, deliberate, "who would be reckless enough to attack a location where members of the council were gathered?"
Melissa whirled on him, her face pale, her voice cracking. "Is that what concerns you? My daughter has been taken, and there's been no word from the Morettis. How can you expect me to sit calmly?" Her throat burned with each word, panic tightening her chest.
The Romano's expression hardened. "Keep your voice down. Do not forget who it is you are speaking to."
Melissa's lips trembled. Before she could answer, Mrs. Kaley's voice slid through the air like a blade. "Now you wish to play the good mother?" She tilted her head, her eyes cold and unyielding. "You sold your daughter away just to preserve your position in this council. Have you forgotten that already?"
Melissa's knees nearly buckled. Her skin prickled as if every drop of blood had been drained away, leaving her hollow and cold.
"Our concern should not be your daughter," Ashford interjected, his tone calm but dangerous, like a predator waiting to strike. He steepled his fingers together, the sound of his rings clinking softly. "It should be Moretti. Not only was his wedding attacked, but his bride was kidnapped, and yet every council member present escaped with ease. If he suspects we had a hand in this, he will not sit quietly."
"We have to make sure he doesn't suspect." Mrs. Kaley set down her teacup with a sharp click against the porcelain saucer. "If he begins to investigate and discovers our plan… it will be beyond our control to stop that monster. Just hope your daughter won't be caught in it though I fear it is already too late."
With that, she rose. The rustle of her silk gown followed her as she swept toward the door. The two men rose in unison, their presence heavy as they followed, leaving the air colder in their absence.
Melissa's legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the couch. The fabric scratched against her palms as she buried her face in trembling hands. Her chest heaved with shallow, ragged breaths, and the salt of her tears stung her lips. "What have I done…?" she whispered, the words muffled and broken.
Meanwhile, in the abandoned hotel, the air smelled of mildew and rust. Dim shafts of sunlight cut through broken windows, illuminating motes of dust that floated lazily in the stillness. The silence pressed in, broken only by the creak of old beams and the faint hum of traffic far beyond the walls.
Dominic crouched in front of Alessia who was still strapped to a chair with her whole body trembling, her skin was damp with sweat, strands of her hair plastered to her tear-streaked cheeks. The metallic tang of blood clung to the air around her, mixing with the acrid stench of the bomb vest.
Two of Dominic's men approached quickly, the sounds of their boots echoing through the walls.
"We've secured the perimeter," one reported with a rifle slung across his chest.
"Good," Dominic replied, not breaking his gaze from Alessia. His voice carried authority, calm yet sharp enough to slice through tension. The men gave curt nods and moved to the edges of the space.
Dominic pulled his phone from his pocket, the faint glow of the screen casting light across his hardened face. His tone was steel when he spoke. "Get me the commissioner. I want two of his best bomb squad operatives here in five minutes. Not ten—five. That's an order." His thumb ended the call before the man on the other end could speak.
Sliding the phone away, Dominic crouched lower until his eyes met Alessia's. His features softened barely. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Her lips trembled, salt from her tears running into the corner of her mouth. Her wide, terrified eyes searched his face, disbelieving. "Sorry? Isn't this what you wanted?" Her voice wavered, sharp with both pain and fear.
"I want many things, Aly," he said, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, heavy with something she couldn't read. "But putting you in danger isn't one of them."
Her chest tightened as fresh tears welled, blurring her vision. The weight of the bomb vest pressed against her ribs was suffocating. Each tick of the hidden timer in the vest thundered in her ears. Her broken fingers throbbed in the straps, blood flow was cut off and they felt like they might shatter. Every muscle screamed with pain, and the air felt thin, as if it refused to enter her lungs.
"Is that so?" she gasped, her words uneven, catching between sobs. "Then tell me… why did you burn my house down? Why did you kill my father and my brother?" The last word splintered from her throat, raw grief slicing through fear.
Dominic's eyes darkened, jaw tightening until the muscle ticked. "Alessia…" he began, but the heavy stomp of footsteps echoed suddenly behind him, reverberating off the cracked walls and cutting him off.