Page 52 of Dario DeLuca

With each shallow breath, the tension melts from her body until her eyes flutter closed in uneasy slumber. Even in this fragile, unguarded state, she is breathtaking—resilient, fierce, and achingly vulnerable.

I inhale deeply, savoring the faint traces of her intoxicating scent mingled with the metallic tang of lingering smoke and fear. Carefully, I extract myself from her side, draping a throw blanket over her slumbering form before retreating to my study.

The heavy oak door shuts out the night's pandemonium with a decisive thud. In this sanctum, the trappings of my life envelop me—deep mahogany shelves lined with dusty tomes, an array of bottles containing amber and dark spirits, and the imposing desk that was my father's.

I sink into the worn leather chair. With a few deft keystrokes, the computer's monitor flickers to life, revealing a complex web of encrypted files—my father's legacy and perhaps the key to unraveling the mystery of who the fuck is behind all of this.

What the hell were my father and hers involved in? Years have passed, and any sign of their friendship has been buried. But someone out there remembers, and whomever it is, struck tonight.

Line after line of code streams across the screen as I delve into the digital vault, scanning intently for any shred of information that could expose our enemy. Marcus Gordon's political machinations extended far beyond the public eye, intertwined with the underbelly of Chicago in ways even I couldn't fathom.

Dossiers on rivals, blueprints for illicit dealings, records of every debt owed, and leverage held…it's all here, interwoven through this byzantine tapestry my father spun to maintain his iron grip on the city. But there are gaps, vagaries even his meticulous chronicles cannot fill.

My mind races with possibilities as I cross-reference files, searching for any connection to tonight's attack, any hint of who may have slipped through the intricate web of security meant to protect Gordon and his kin.

The weight of responsibility bears down, made heavier by the knowledge Mia's safety hinges on my ability to extract answers from this digital morass. I am the silent sentinel keeping the shadows at bay, the only barrier between her and those who would bring ruin to our worlds.

The minutes bleed into hours, the screen casting an eerie phosphorescent glow in the shrouding darkness. I am consumed, burrowing deeper and deeper down this rabbit hole of secrets and lies as the night bleeds away.

The shrill ring of my phone pierces the silence. I nearly upend the desk in my haste to silence the sound before it rouses Mia. My heart thunders in my ears as I snatch up the phone.

"Gabrielle?" I demand, without preamble, the name a gruff exhalation laced with dread.

"She's safe," Rafael's voice crackles over the line with customary impassivity. "I made sure she made it home and had Luca guarding her."

A lead weight lifts from my chest as the fear of further tragedy dissipates. At least there's one less wound for Mia's heart to bear tonight.

"And Marcus?" I press, needing constant updates to stave off the rising tide of uncertainty. There's a weighted pause stretching out for an eternity.

"Alive," he finally replies. "Alessandro went with him and Josephine to the hospital. I'm headed there now."

Another pause, this one more ominous, as a sense of dread prickles along my spine.

"Dario…Santino is dead."

The confirmation of what I already suspected still hits with the force of a sledgehammer. I expel a guttural "Fuck!" laced with rage and frustration at this entire clusterfuck.

Santino was one of our best men, someone who'd repeatedly proven his undying loyalty. And now he was just another casualty, burned alive like some sacrifice.

"We need to find out who's—" I start, mind already whirring with potential culprits and scenarios for revenge.

But Rafael's voice stays with me, always the voice of reason. "I'll handle it. Just focus on Mia…I'll take care of everything else."

The line disconnects. My cousin will ensure the appropriate retributions while I remain here, guarding Mia as she sleeps obliviously in the next room.

With a weary sigh, I lean back into the worn leather, the digital secrets still spread before me. Secrets, sins, and deceits bleed together until my eyes cross. I may not have found the answer tonight, but nothing will keep me from unraveling, finding this asshole, and putting a bullet in his brain.

TWENTY-TWO

MIA

We speed down the highway,the sleek black SUV eating up the miles. I stare out the window, my thoughts a tangled web of longing and fear.

My father.

God, I want to be with him, but I can’t. And that pains me. This constant pressure in my chest makes it hard for me to breathe. I need to see him, to hold his hand and tell him I love him.

What if I never get the chance?

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