Romeo’s throat bobs. “Yeah. Fine.”
A lie. A loud one.
Santino narrows his eyes. Not believing a damn second of it.
I stay frozen in the alcove, lungs burning, shadows wrapped around me like armor.
If I shift even a fraction, if a single breath escapes too loudly — Santino will drag me out by the wrist.And Romeo…Romeo might finish what he started.
I don’t move.
Until Santino steps away, suspicion still tightens his frame.Not until Romeo walks off too fast, too stiff, carrying the weight of a secret that could unmake them all.
Only then do I inhale—quiet and shallow.
Romeo was there when Giovanni died.
Which means the King’s death wasn’t the clean execution the world believes.It means someone else was there.Someone else was involved.
And someone in this church — someone wearing a collar — is about to tear himself apart trying to uncover that truth.
The First Shattered Truth
Santino searches for Romeo or a talk. Romeo’s breathing is still uneven when Santino reaches him—ragged, shallow, the breath that comes from outrunning a nightmare that hasn’t stopped chasing you.
Santino’s eyes sweep the hall immediately, sharp and searching, like he can feel the wrongness vibrating in the air.
“Everything okay?” he asks again, voice tight. Too tight.
Romeo startles—just slightly. Only someone watching him as closely as I am would notice.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Too fast.Too stiff.Too fucking false.
Santino’s jaw ticks. He doesn’t buy that for a single second.
I can see the fracture forming between them—hairline at first, then widening, forging itself through two brothers already held together by grief, distrust, and the ghost of a father who broke them in different ways.
Santino steps deeper into the stairwell. His hand rests on the iron banister—the same place Romeo stood moments ago, whispering guilt into the empty air.
Romeo swallows hard. Too hard.
“You sure?” Santino presses.
Romeo nods again, but it’s not an answer. It’s an escape attempt disguised as a gesture. “Yeah. Like I said. Fine.”
He turns and walks away.
Too fast.Too rattled.Too terrified of what Santino might drag out of him if he stands there another second.
I stay frozen in the alcove, breath trapped tight in my chest. The cold stone at my back feels like an anchor holding me in place while everything I just learned clicks together inside my mind like loaded chambers.
Romeo was there when Giovanni died.He didn’t kill him—he swears he didn’t.But he witnessed it.And the King’s death—bloody, buried, blamed entirely on Emiliano—wasn’t the clean execution the mafia world believes.
Someone else was involved.Someone Romeo is protecting.Someone he fears.Someone who might be—
Santino’s pulse hits my ears before I hear his footsteps.
