His voice—low, strained, ragged at the edges—is nothing like the sharp-tongued, quick-tempered brother I met yesterday. Noteven Santino, in his worst moments, has sounded this cracked open.
I shift one step closer.Then another.Silent. Practiced. Predatory.
“…I told you I didn’t mean to,” Romeo hisses, his voice breaking on the last word.
My pulse kicks hard.
Fear.Genuine fear.The kind that doesn’t belong in the mouth of a Rivas son.
“I wasn’t supposed… I didn’t know he would—”
He stops abruptly. Footsteps scrape against stone as he paces in small, frantic circles. I inch closer, careful not to let my shadow betray me.
Giovanni.It has to be Giovanni.
Romeo’s voice drops lower, trembling as if he’s afraid the walls themselves might be listening.
“…If this gets out, everything falls apart. Do you understand me? Everything.”
Everything.The word slams into my chest with cruel precision.
My father died chasing that “everything.”The truth buried beneath it.The men who killed him for getting too close.
Romeo sucks in a shaky breath, then whispers:
“I didn’t kill him. I swear I didn’t. But I was there.”
My blood turns to ice.
There.The night Giovanni Rivas—the King—died.
Every file I stole, every report I dissected, every whisper I followed through the darkest corners of Palermo — all pointed to Emiliano Maritz pulling the trigger.
But if Romeo was present?If he saw it?If he took part?
The truth is bigger.Darker.More dangerous than I had imagined.
Above us, a door slams—loud and echoing. Santino left his office.
Romeo freezes.Panic jerks his silhouette rigid.The phone snaps shut with a desperate click.
Shit.
I retreat instantly, flattening against the shadows behind the support pillar. My heartbeat slams against my ribs so hard I’m terrified the sound alone will expose me.
Footsteps hit the stairs.Slow. Heavy. Controlled.
Santino.
Romeo stands beneath the landing, breathing like he’s about to combust. I don’t breathe at all.
If Santino sees Romeo’s face — If Santino sees mine — This ends here.
Santino descends the last steps.
Romeo straightens, forcing composure over his features like a too-thin mask stretched over panic.
“Everything okay?” Santino asks. His voice is steady, but tension coils beneath every syllable.
