For a moment, I couldn't breathe.The screen burned into me—his face. The same face I'd spent years trying to forget, the same smile that had haunted the edges of my nightmares. Matteo. My brother. Dead to the world—or so I thought.
"Marco," Luca said quietly. "It can't be him."
But it was. I knew that scar at the corner of his mouth, the faint tilt of arrogance in his stance. Matteo had always been the kind of man who smiled right before the world burned.
"Stay with Isabella," I ordered, moving toward the door.
"Boss, wait—"
"I said stay."
The rain slammed against me as I stepped outside, cold slicing through my shirt like knives. The night smelled of iron and storm. I scanned the garden, every instinct sharpening, muscles coiled for a fight.
He was standing by the old stone fountain, unmoving, as if he'd been waiting for me. Lightning flared again, catching the water streaming down his face. For a second, he looked almost human. Almost.
"Matteo," I said, my voice low. "You're supposed to be dead."
He chuckled, the sound hollow and wrong. "You should know better than anyone—people like us don't die that easily."
My pulse thundered. I remembered the last time I'd seen him—years ago, the night everything fell apart. The blood. The betrayal. The deal that went wrong because he sold us out. I'd buried the man myself, or at least, I thought I had.
"What do you want?" I asked.
His smile widened. "You, brother. Always you. But tonight… her."
I stiffened. "You stay away from Isabella."
He tilted his head, amused. "You really think you can protect her? The girl you broke? The one you fired and sent out into a world full of wolves?" His words were sharp, deliberate. "She was easy to find. Pretty things always are."
I stepped closer, fury clawing its way up my chest. "If you touch her—"
"Relax," he interrupted, holding up his hands mockingly. "I wouldn't hurt something that belongs to you. Not yet." His eyes gleamed with something feral. "But she's leverage. And you, my dear brother, owe me a debt."
I froze. "What debt?"
He smiled, slow and deliberate. "The one Father left unpaid."
And then, before I could reach him, he stepped back into the darkness. A flash of light, the distant roar of an engine, and he was gone—vanishing into the storm like he'd never been there at all.
I stood there, drenched, breath heaving, the echo of his words tearing through my mind. The one Father left unpaid.
Behind me, the villa door creaked open. Isabella stood there, clutching the towel tighter around her. Her face was pale, eyes wide.
"Who was that?" she asked softly.
I hesitated. Lying would be easier. Safer. But the truth had already clawed its way out into the open.
"My brother," I said. "The one I thought was dead."
Her lips parted in disbelief. "He's the one who's been following me?"
I nodded slowly. "And if he's back, it means this isn't just about me anymore."
She shivered, stepping closer. "Marco, what does he want?"
I looked past her, toward the empty road. The answer wasn't clear yet, but I could feel it—like thunder gathering before the strike.
"Everything," I whispered. "He wants everything I've built."
Luca came running out, gun still in hand. "He's gone. We checked the perimeter—nothing."
"Of course he's gone," I muttered. "He wanted me to see him."
"To send a message," Luca finished grimly.
Inside, Isabella stood near the fireplace, watching me with that same look she'd given me the night I fired her—hurt mixed with something deeper. I poured her a glass of whiskey to calm her hands, but they still trembled as she took it.
"I shouldn't have come," she murmured.
"Stop saying that." I crouched in front of her, forcing her to meet my eyes. "You were right to come. You're safer here than anywhere else."
Her gaze flicked to mine, cautious but searching. "Safe? You just told me a man who was supposed to be dead is after me. That doesn't sound safe, Marco."
I clenched my jaw. "Then I'll make it safe."
She let out a shaky laugh. "You can't control everything."
"I can control this," I said.
The words came out harder than I meant, but she didn't flinch. She just looked at me—really looked—and something shifted between us. All the anger, all the distance we'd built to protect ourselves, started to crumble under the weight of something neither of us could deny anymore.
Her voice softened. "Why do you always have to carry it alone?"
Because if I didn't, everyone I loved would end up like my mother. Like Matteo's victims. Like her.
But I couldn't say that. Not yet.
Instead, I reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. "Because that's the only way I know how."
Her eyes glistened. "You can't keep saving everyone, Marco."
"Maybe not," I said quietly. "But I'll save you."
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a crash echoed from upstairs—glass shattering, sharp and close.
Luca spun toward the sound, gun raised. "Someone's inside."
Adrenaline surged through me. "Get her to the basement," I ordered.
"No," Isabella said, grabbing my arm. "I'm not leaving you again."
Our eyes locked—an unspoken argument in the middle of chaos. But this wasn't the time.
"Go," I said, softer now. "Please."
She hesitated, then nodded, allowing Luca to guide her toward the hidden stairwell behind the wine racks. I waited until the door closed behind them before I drew my gun and started up the stairs.
The hall was dark except for the flicker of lightning through the windows. Broken glass glittered across the floor, rain dripping through a shattered pane. I moved quietly, scanning every shadow.
Then I heard it.A whisper.Low. Familiar.
"Still protecting what's already doomed, brother?"
I spun, gun raised—but there was no one there. Just the faint echo of laughter, fading into the night.
My chest ached with the weight of old ghosts and new dangers. Matteo wasn't just back—he was playing a game, one he'd started long before tonight.
When I finally returned downstairs, Isabella was waiting in the hall, refusing to stay hidden. Her face was pale, her jaw tight, but her eyes met mine without fear.
"Was it him?" she asked.
"Not this time," I said.
But I wasn't sure I believed it.
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing mine. "Whatever this is, you're not facing it alone. Not again."
I wanted to tell her she didn't understand. That loving me meant getting caught in a war she couldn't win. But looking at her—trembling but unbroken—I realized she already knew.
And she chose to stay anyway.
I exhaled, letting the last of the tension bleed from my shoulders. "Then we do this together."
Outside, thunder rolled again, closer this time. The storm wasn't passing—it was only gathering strength.
Somewhere in the dark, Matteo was watching. Waiting.
And I knew one thing for certain.This time, only one of us would walk away alive.