Page 95 of Beneath the Shadows

My family and our business, they’re all that matter. Following in my uncle’s footsteps, keeping everyone safe, maintaining peace on the streets—that’s my priority.

I’ll find Alessia, and she’ll become my wife. Even if it means becoming the very monster I swore I’d never become.

Antonio

I’ve been staring at the reports on my desk for so long that the words blur together. Dante’s hacker hasn’t turned up anything yet—no records, no traces. Alessia’s a ghost and with each day that passes, it feels like a noose tightening around my neck.

I put a few of my closest men on the search. They’re working quietly, combing through every scrap of information that might give me a lead. I have to keep it all locked down. If Draco catches wind of this, it’ll get ugly fast.

While I’m focused on finding Alessia, I’ve put Enzo in charge of keeping the restaurant and our money-laundering operation afloat. I’m counting on him to keep business running smoothly and cover my tracks, so no one suspects how deep I’m buried in this mess.

It’s all I can do to keep up appearances—make it look like business as usual while my mind races, wondering where the hell Alessia’s hiding.

The worst part? Dealing with Draco. He’s been calling nonstop, demanding to know why Alessia isn’t answering her phone. I keep feeding him the same line—she’s mourning Valentino. She needs time and asks not to be disturbed. He’s calling bullshit on it. Draco knows as well as I do that she hated Valentino. But so far, I’ve been able to keep him away.

Until today.

“Antonio.” Draco’s voice crackles through the phone. “I’ve been patient, but my daughter has ignored me for long enough.”

“She’s grieving, Draco.” I force calm into my tone, even though my pulse pounds in my ears. “Valentino’s death hit her harder than expected. She needs more time.”

“I’ve given her enough time,” he snaps. “I’m done with excuses. Perhaps I should stop by your mother’s house to see her for myself.”

The idea of Draco anywhere near my mother or Cecilia makes my blood run cold. “There’s no need for that, Draco,” I say, trying to mask my desperation. “I’ll talk to her and make sure she gets in touch.”

“You have one week, Antonio,” he growls. “After that, I’ll deal with this personally.”

The line goes dead, and I’m left staring at the phone. One week. That’s all I’ve got before Draco blows this whole thing wide open.

I slam my fist onto the desk, frustration boiling over. “Damn it,” I yell, shoving the papers aside. “Where the hell are you, Alessia?”

I can’t afford to lose control. Not now. I need a plan. But every second that ticks by is a reminder I’m running out of time.

Dante’s hacker is still digging through bus ticket records, but we’ve got nothing so far. If she had a fake ID, she could be anywhere. Hell, she could be on the other side of the world, and I wouldn’t know it.

This is taking too long. I can’t sit around waiting. I have to do something.

My mind races, desperate for any lead I haven’t thought of yet. Then it hits me—the gallery. How did I not consider it before? Alessia’s photography was always her escape, her way of expressing what she couldn’t say aloud. If she left any trace behind, it might be there.

It's a long shot, but if there's even the slightest possibility it can lead me to her, I have to check it out.

* * *

The moment I step inside, the gallery feels like a different world—quiet, serene, completely removed from the chaos that surrounds me. I take a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me. Wandering around the small space, I glance at the pieces for sale.

“Good afternoon,” the owner greets me as she steps out from the back room, her smile polite and practiced. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“You as well,” I reply.

“Are you interested in anything specific today?” she asks.

I glance around, keeping it casual. "Thought maybe there’d be some fresh work on display."

Her eyes brighten. "Actually, there is," she says, nodding toward a section I haven’t seen yet.

Crossing the gallery, my gaze locks onto a set of photographs, each one bearing the signatureAlliein the corner.

“These are incredible,” I murmur.

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