Page 110 of Iron Roses

The grass is cold and real beneath me. Wind cuts across the back of my neck. I turn onto my side, dragging in air like it might vanish.

Then, her voice—Giovanna’s voice—is behind me.

“I told you so.”

I wipe my eyes quickly and pull myself to my feet, my legs wobbling beneath me. The chill feels different. Giovanna stands there, smiling, but there’s something sad in her eyes. She’s fading again, her figure becoming less substantial, but still close enough for me to feel her warmth.

We sprint across the yard, slipping through shadows, moving with a purpose. My feet burn with every step, each stride forcing my body to fight against its own limits.

Giovanna’s voice guides me forward. “The guards are just ahead. We need to get to the far side of the house.”

I keep running, stumbling slightly but pushing on. Her voice is steady, pushing me faster. I’m close. Almost at the edge of the courtyard, the door that might lead to freedom.

A figure steps out in front of us.

A guard.

I try to dodge him, but my legs won’t carry me. He swats my arm.

His grip is firm, pulling me back. I stumble, losing my balance as he yanks me harder. My body crashes against his chest.

“No!” Giovanna screams, reaching out as if to stop him, her arms stretching toward me. “Don’t let him—!”

But her voice is cut off. She disappears, fading into nothingness before I can even react.

The world tilts, and everything around me turns colder. The guard pulls me away, his grip like iron around my wrist. My body burns in ways I can't control, every inch of my skin feels raw. I fight. I try to wrench free, but my legs—my burned feet—fail me.

I’m pulled back, dragged back toward the mansion.

“No!” I gasp, fighting against his hold, but it’s useless. His strength is too much. I’m being dragged back, and Giovanna is gone.

I can’t fight anymore.

Chapter Nineteen – Cassian

I cross into the common room.

Lorenzo’s near the console, phone in hand. Allegra’s pacing. The movement is tight, repetitive. Her hands are knotted in front of her, white at the knuckles.

She stops when she sees me. So does he.

Her voice lands flat, quiet. “My phone’s gone. I think Elaria took it when we hugged.”

Lorenzo swipes across his screen, pulls up the tracking app. The glow illuminates his face, sharpens the lines under his eyes. He taps twice, scans the result. Then turns the phone slightly toward her.

A pin pulses on the screen.

“Valosi estate. That’s where the phone is.”

No one says anything.

Allegra turns, moves to the television. “Look at this.”

Her hand finds the remote. The volume is already set low. The channel’s changed. Syndicate network. Private feed.

The broadcast begins.

A man stands at a podium, a polished seal mounted behind him. He is a well known face in Melbourne, Guillermo Valosi.Fausto stands one step back, his hands folded in front of him. They’re flanked by men in tailored coats.

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