Page 83 of Beneath the Shadows

I glance around the restaurant, noting the uneasy faces of the guests as they mill about, trying to make sense of the chaos. My men are still in place, controlling the scene, keeping everyone calm. I straighten my jacket, forcing a relaxed expression as I step back into the center of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I begin, my voice firm yet composed, cutting cleanly through the rising murmurs. "Thank you for your patience. Unfortunately, there’s been an unexpected turn of events, and we’ll have to end the celebration early."

There’s a beat of silence, followed by the voice of Fabrizio Ricci, an old associate with eyes as sharp as his instincts. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?” His words are polite, but there’s a calculated edge to them—an undertone that only someone who’s lived in our world would catch.

I meet his gaze, keeping my expression carefully neutral, offering nothing but a smooth veneer. “Nothing for you to worry about, Fabrizio,” I reply, sidestepping his question. “Just a minor issue downstairs.” I nod to my men, signaling them to begin quietly herding the guests out. "Thank you for your cooperation, and I appreciate your understanding."

The night isn’t over—far from it. As I survey the scene, watching the guests shuffle out under the watchful eyes of my men, a dark satisfaction coils deep within me.

Valentino’s gone. His presence no longer taints this world.

The air has shifted, but no one truly understands the gravity of the moment. Not yet, but soon enough, they will.

Alessia

Antonio sentme home with two guards and strict orders to wait for him. I thought he’d show up sooner, but it’s nearly two in the morning and I’ve heard nothing. The house feels stifling, as if the air itself is holding its breath. When I finally hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, I jump up from the steps in the foyer, my nerves on edge. Rushing to the door, I pull it open before they have a chance to knock.

The two guards step aside, and I spot Antonio walking across the driveway toward me. His shirt is rumpled, the top few buttons undone, and his tie hangs loose around his neck. His hair is disheveled like he’s spent the night running his hands through it. He looks tired, but there’s something about the way he holds himself—a lingering innocence beneath the ruthless exterior.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up,” he says, his voice low as he reaches the porch.

“My husband was found dead,” I reply, the words sharper than I intend. “Do you think I’d be able to sleep without knowing what happened?”

He ignores my question, turning to the men flanking me. “Thank you for staying with her. You can go now.”

They nod and disappear into the night, leaving us alone on the porch. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. Antonio sighs, his shoulders slumping as he finally meets my gaze. There’s something in his eyes—something more than exhaustion. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of the world, and for the first time, he’s allowing me to see it.

“Come inside,” I murmur, stepping back to let him pass. He hesitates for a moment before walking into the house. I close the door quietly and follow him to the living room. He collapses onto the couch, rubbing his temples, looking more worn than I’ve ever seen him.

“How did Valentino die?” I ask, standing in the doorway, my voice quieter now.

There’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite place—guilt, maybe—but he hides it. “It was quick,” he says, but the hollowness in his tone betrays him.

Quick.Of course. After everything Valentino put me through, all the pain, the terror, I can’t help but feel cheated. Part of me wishes he’d suffered, even for a moment. That he felt a fraction of the helplessness I endured at his hands. Knowing he was spared that feels like a cruel twist of fate.

"And Lena?" I press, needing to know how she fits into this.

He hesitates, grabbing the back of his neck—an old habit of his when he’s uneasy. "I’m looking into it," he says carefully, his voice steady but guarded.

I bite the inside of my cheek, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Antonio, you can’t keep me in the dark. I know she was there. Did she kill him?"

His jaw clenches, and for a brief second, I think he might tell me the truth. But then he shakes his head, barely noticeable. “It’s complicated, Alessia. Just trust me that I’m handling it.”

The words sting more than they should.Handling it.They’re a reminder of how little control I have in any of this. But I don’t have the energy to fight him. "Am I in danger?"

Antonio’s expression softens just a fraction before he shakes his head. “No, you’re not in danger.”

“How can you be so sure?” I push, hoping he’ll give me more than vague assurances.

He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, the exhaustion on his face more pronounced now. “Alessia, please. Just go to bed,” he says, his voice almost pleading. “We’ll talk more in the morning. I’m staying here tonight.”

“Why? You just said I’m not in danger.”

"It’s not about that, Alessia," he snaps, the sharpness in his voice making me take a step back. "I just need to be here, alright?"

I cross my arms, frustrated, but I can tell he’s barely holding himself together. “If I’m not in danger, why do you need to stay?”

He closes his eyes for a long moment, his fists clenching at his sides as if trying to keep his temper in check. When he opens them, there’s a flicker of something—anger, frustration, guilt but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “Because I’m not leaving you alone tonight. End of discussion.”

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