Outside, the sun had nearly set. The villa's overgrown gardens were painted in shades of orange and purple, beautiful in a wild, abandoned way.
Giana paused at the SUV's door, looking back at the house one last time. This wasn't how she imagined it ending.
She had wanted to walk away with Vincenzo alive and broken behind her, knowing that his destruction was entirely her doing. Instead, Serapis had stolen it, but as she climbed into the vehicle, Rodrigo's hand warm in hers, she realized it didn't matter.
Vincenzo was dead. The Sicilian families would think twice before coming for her or Rodrigo again. Ancient, terrifying Serapis had just revealed himself to be alive and as dangerous as ever.
She had spent six years as a prisoner. Six weeks as a lost girl, not knowing what her future was going to be. And now?
Now, she was something else entirely. Partner. Lover. Sister to Dario and Leo. Friend to Athena and the others. She was the woman who had dismantled a crime lord's empire with nothing but a laptop and a grudge. Whatever came next, she would be standing beside Rodrigo, not cowering behind him.
The SUV put the villa in the rearview mirror, leaving Vincenzo Falcone's corpse to the gathering dark for his enemies to find. Giana leaned against Rodrigo's shoulder and closed her eyes. She was going home with him, and that was all that mattered.
44
Scaffolding had become the new aesthetic of the Colleoni compound. Rodrigo stood at the window of his office, watching workers swarm over the eastern wall like ants rebuilding a damaged nest.
The green fire had left scorch marks that no amount of scrubbing could erase, so they were replacing entire sections of stone. The old with the new. It seemed fitting.
A week had passed since Vincenzo Falcone's head had decorated the walls of the rundown villa. His body had been found three days later by debt collectors who had tracked him down with the information Giana had so helpfully distributed. What remained of him fit in a closed casket, and not a single family sent flowers to the funeral.
The Falcone empire had shattered like glass. Some pieces had been swept up by the Calabrians, others by the Neapolitans.
The old Don, Vincenzo's uncle, had finally gotten his wish to retire, retreating to a quiet villa in the countryside where no one would bother him. The threat from Sicily had ended, not with a dramatic final battle, but with a whimper and a stack of incriminating documents.
Serapis, however, remained a shadow on the horizon. Leo and the Edgeworths were already hunting, following threads that stretched back decades. That fight would come, but not today.
Today, there was only paperwork. God, Rodrigo hated paperwork.
"You're brooding again."
Rodrigo turned to find Giana watching him from her desk. It was positioned across from his, and was covered in monitors, encrypted drives, and assorted organized chaos. She had moved in three days ago, and already the office felt incomplete without her presence.
"I don't brood," he replied stubbornly.
"You absolutely brood. You stand at the windows and stare into the middle distance with your jaw clenched." She mimicked his posture, squaring her shoulders and furrowing her brow. "Very dramatic. Very tortured. Are you contemplating how hard it is to be handsome?"
Rodrigo grinned at her silliness. "I was thinking."
"Brooding," she corrected, turning back to her screen. "I intercepted another communication from the Ndrangheta. They're testing our response times on the northern shipping routes."
Rodrigo moved to look over her shoulder, one hand resting on the back of her chair. "Forward it to Dario. He can handle the response."
"He's already done it." She tilted her head back to look up at him. "He was trained just as well as you. He doesn't need you hovering."
Rodrigo rubbed at his temple. "Old habits."
"The worst kind." She smiled when he bent to kiss her forehead. She caught his jaw and redirected him to her lips instead.
The knock at the door interrupted them. One of the household staff, Maria, stood in the doorway with a knowing smile that she quickly suppressed.
"Signora, the painting you requested has been hung in the east gallery."
"Thank you, Maria. I'll come see it shortly."
Signora. The staff had started using the title, a quiet acknowledgment of what Giana had become. Not just Rodrigo's lover or his partner, but the co-head of the family.
She had earned it through blood and fire and twenty-seven hours of digital destruction. The soldiers respected her. The household deferred to her. Even Dario had started getting her advice and affectionately calling her 'sorellina.'
