Luca’s voice was uncharacteristically somber as he spoke. “Well, I guess that makes what I’m about to say easier. There’s a hit out on your fake wife. Got the text right as we walked into the house. Seems someone really wants her gone. Contract is for five million.”
The words slammed into me, tightening my chest with icy dread. My mind raced—five million wasn’t a warning; it was a declaration of war. Still, I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “Did your contact say who ordered the contract?” I asked, though I already knew the answer would do little to ease my growing terror.
Luca shook his head, shoulders tense. “No.”
Frustration and fear exploded from me in a helpless shout. “Fuck! What the hell is going on? She’s a college student. A nobody!” My hands trembled at my sides—she’d been hidden away, her life simple and untouched by the world I’d dragged her into.
Guilt gnawed at my resolve.
“That’s just it, brother,” Guilio interrupted, walking into the room, his tone heavy with knowledge only a lifelong insider could possess. Guilio was more than just my brother—he was the spare, the second in line to head the Vitale family, and as much as we butted heads, I knew he’d never steer me wrong. His words always cut deep because I knew how much he cared. “Sheisn’t just a nobody. She’s the daughter of Crispin Sinclair, the granddaughter of Veronica Pisano, and the great-granddaughter of Armando Pisano. She was marked the second she was born. The underworld knows not to go after Sinclair. Veronica is dead, and so is Pisano. That leaves her.”
“And her twin,” Luca added quickly, glancing at Cesar with equal parts concern and understanding. Our shared history—fighting side by side, covering each other’s backs—meant we didn’t need to spell out the danger. The stakes were higher than ever, and we all felt the weight.
Cesar grimaced, frustration flickering across his features. “Who no one will touch because of his affiliation with the Silver Shadows,” he admitted, glancing at me. “I hate saying this, but there is only one way to get the information we need, keep our word to Reaper and the Golden Skulls, and ensure she lives.” His loyalty to our allies—and to me—was written in every line of his face.
My head whipped to Cesar’s, eyes wide and heart pounding. I could barely breathe, dread and disbelief warring inside me.
He couldn’t mean—“I’m sorry, brother,” Cesar said quietly, rising to his full height, his gaze never wavering from mine. The authority in his voice brooked no argument, but I could see the pain in his eyes. “I am ordering you to marry your fake wife.”
I found her in my room, curled into a chair by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she gazed out over the grounds. The silence was thick and suffocating. She didn’t look up or acknowledge me when I entered, and I couldsense the walls she’d built around herself growing even higher. I crossed the room quietly and sat at the end of the bed, leaving space between us, hoping my presence might offer comfort without intrusion. Unspoken words hovered between us, heavy with everything we’d left unsaid.
What had started as a straightforward job—one with clear rules and safe boundaries—had twisted into a deadly game where every choice felt like it could tip the scales toward salvation or ruin. The weight of that reality pressed down on me, and I couldn’t help but clench my fists to steady myself, the quiet nearly unbearable under the strain.
Her voice grew distant as she drifted back into her memories, eyes still fixed on the window’s glass.
“When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was to be a doctor. I was sick a lot and spent a lot of time in bed. My brother and the others would keep me company when they really wanted to play outside, which left me a lot of time to myself. I learned to enjoy my solitude and used my time to read and learn everything I could, which prepared me for when I started medical school.”
She hesitated, drawing her knees closer to her chest, knuckles whitening with the effort, and then continued, her vulnerability raw in the dim light.
“But would you like to know what that time also afforded me?” she asked softly, still not looking my way.
She didn’t wait for an answer. After a beat, her voice barely above a whisper, she confessed, “Time to learn who I truly was.”
Moved by the openness in her words, I sat up straighter, bracing myself for the fragments of her past she was about to share. I could sense her resilience in the way she held herself together—barely, yet fiercely—against memories that threatened to undo her.
She took a shaky breath, the silence stretching before she continued, her words tumbling out in a careful, guarded tone. “Ithink I was two, maybe three when Jackson and I escaped the Trick Pony with a woman named Amelia Scott and a small baby. She found a home for the baby right away, but as for Jackson and me, well... no one wanted us, and after a few weeks, Amelia handed us over to the state. At first, life wasn’t so bad. The state home was nice, but it was overcrowded with too many kids, and when a lady from the state came and told us she had found us a new home, I was excited. Happy even. Had I known what truly awaited us, I would have begged to stay at the state home. You see, Vernon and Jewel Buckner were pure evil. I don’t know how else to describe them. In the two and a half years Jackson and I were with them, I’d never been more scared before in my life, and I thank God every day for Jackson, because without him, I would more than likely be dead.”
Her fingers traced an invisible pattern on her arm as she pressed on, voice quivering with both pain and gratitude. “But everything changed when Moonshine found us. To this day, I still don’t know why they didn’t adopt Jackson. He’s never said, and I was happy living with Moonshine and Roxy. I was loved, protected, and encouraged to be whoever and whatever I wanted to be. With Jackson by my side, I felt invincible.”
She faltered for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. “Until I was twelve and almost died of pneumonia. I had always gotten sick during the winter months. Living in the mountains of East Tennessee isn’t easy, that’s for sure. But that year, the winter was really bad. I don’t remember much, just feeling weak for months after, so much so that Roxy was forced to withdraw me from school and homeschool me for the rest of the year. I hated that the most.”
I listened in silence, absorbing the pain and hard-won strength woven through her words. Each memory she shared was a testament to her vulnerability, but also to an inner fortitude that radiated quietly in the space betweenus, compelling me to witness her story without judgment or interruption.
Her voice softened, drawing the curtain of the present back around herself before she ventured deeper. “My adoptive family never cared to learn about my past, where I came from, who I truly was. To them, I was their daughter, even though we didn’t share blood. And for a while I was good with that. Never questioned it. I think on some level I always knew Jackson wasn’t my biological brother, and a word of advice, Massimo... I’d never state that to him. He’s kind of funny when it comes to me.”
She managed a fragile smile, almost wistful in its vulnerability, before continuing, “Anyway, I had just started the eighth grade when a young, handsome man showed up at the clubhouse. I’d never seen him before and thought nothing of it. Strange men always showed up at the clubhouse, some in suits, but most in leather cuts. When they did, Jackson and the club brothers would stand guard. The man was looking for his son—a young boy with a distinct birthmark. When Moonshine told him the boy he was looking for wasn’t in the clubhouse, the man left and never returned. I can’t explain it but seeing him so sad broke my heart. It made no sense to me. There was a man desperately searching for his missing son, and yet, no one came looking for me.”
She paused, her gaze finally meeting mine, eyes shining with equal parts sorrow and the steely resilience that had carried her through so much. “Eventually, I put it out of my head and moved on, happy with my life and my adoptive family. I never gave a second thought to that man and his missing son,” she said quietly. “Until today.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Miranda
My heart hammered in my chest as I slowly rose to my feet, never letting my gaze waver from him. The question slipped out, tight and deliberate, each syllable colored by suspicion and a flicker of fear. “Who is Pisano?”
He let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping as he bowed his head, a string of curses escaping under his breath. I felt a tremor of unease tighten my muscles as I watched him from the window, forcing myself to stay rooted. There was a chill along my spine—a warning. I couldn’t tell what game he was playing, but I was tired of being a pawn. I wanted out.
“He’s a nobody.”
