Page 53 of Of Lies and Shadows

I glance at Bruno as he shuts the door behind me, mouthing a soft thank you.

He nods. Nothing more. But it’s enough.

I hold the children close on the ride back. I hum softly when Lucia dozes against my arm. I trace circles on Alessio’s back until he leans into me.

And when we pull through the estate gates, I square my shoulders.

I’m not strong. I’m not fearless.

But I am still here. And for now… that will have to be enough.

Chapter Twelve

Dante

They say when you seek revenge, dig two graves.

And fuck, I think they were right because I must’ve started digging mine the moment I decided to punish Francesca and the Vescari by making her my wife.

That decision was supposed to bring satisfaction. Control. Balance to the betrayal.

Instead, I’m here. Not in my office. Not handlingshipments, not expanding my territory.

I’m sitting in Judge Rizzo’s too-bright living room, drinking a bitter espresso I didn’t ask for, trying not to scowl at the way his daughter offers me a plate of almond cookies with the kind of open joy I haven’t seen in years.

“Grazie, cara,” he says, patting her hand gently before she disappears down the hallway, humming some childish tune that makes the silence feel even heavier once it fades.

He waits until she’s out of earshot before turning to me. His eyes are calm but sharp. The eyes of a man who’s seen every kind of monster come through his doors—and who knows when one is pretending not to be one.

“You look like shit,” Rizzo says flatly.

“I feel worse.”

“Regret doesn’t suit you, Forzi.”

“It’s not regret,” I lie. “It’s logistics.”

“Right. Logistics.” He sips his coffee and studies me like I’m some kind of broken machine he’s deciding whether to fix or scrap. “And what doeslogisticswant with me today?”

“I want to talk about Francesca.”

Rizzo’s expression hardens. He shakes his head. “You know I can’t. My role is sacred. I don’t share information about other famiglia.”

“This isn’t the same.”

He cocks his head. “And why’s that? Because you’re Dante Forzi, and that makes you special?” A dry laugh escapes him. “I’ve heard that one before. Many times.”

I press my lips together, my jaw tight. I don’t like being mocked, but I know better than to push him. He’s one of the untouchables. A pillar of order in a world built on chaos.The man who keeps us from devouring each other alive.

“I’m not,” I mutter. “But she is. I saw you’re fond of her. Which, I believe, is technically not allowed.”

His brows lift a fraction. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Forzi?” His voice doesn’t rise, but the threat in it is unmistakable. “That’s beneath you. And let me be very clear: Icanhave preferences. I’m human, after all. What Ican’tdo is let that influence my judgment, which, should anyone ever question, I’ll have no problem justifying.”

I grit my teeth. This angle isn’t working. I decide to shift tactics.

“Fine. You can’t share anything. But answer me this—if I had asked for death, as prescribed by the code, would you have granted it?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just lifts his cup and takes a slow, measured sip. He knows exactly what I’m doing, and he’s deciding how much to give me.

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