The drive back to the estate was wordless. The city lights blurred past the windows, streaks of gold and red against the black.
Alessia sat rigid in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Damian's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
When they reached the gates, the guards stepped aside without a word. The moment the car stopped, Damian got out and walked straight inside. Alessia followed, her heels echoing through the marble hall.
He didn't stop until he reached his office. The door slammed behind him, the sound sharp enough to make her flinch.
Inside, he poured himself a drink, his movements mechanical. The amber liquid trembled in the glass as he stared at it, lost in thought.
Alessia lingered by the doorway. "You should let Luca handle the rest," she said quietly.
Damian didn't look up. "Luca can't handle what comes next."
"You mean Matteo."
He finally met her gaze. "He's not the only one. Matteo was working with someone—someone higher. He said it himself."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't have the luxury of disbelief."
He downed the drink in one swallow, then set the glass down with a dull thud. "Every move I've made, every alliance I've built—it's all been compromised. Someone's been inside my circle for months."
Alessia stepped closer. "Then find them. But don't lose yourself doing it."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "You think there's anything left to lose?"
She didn't answer. The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Then Luca entered, his expression grim. "Boss, Matteo's stable. He's refusing to talk."
Damian's voice was cold. "He will."
Luca hesitated. "There's something else. We found a phone on one of his men. It had a message waiting to be sent—coordinates, a time, and a single word: exchange."
Damian's eyes narrowed. "When?"
"Tomorrow night."
"Where?"
"The old shipyard."
Damian's mind was already moving, calculating. "Get the team ready. No one moves until I say."
Luca nodded and left.
When the door closed, Alessia spoke again, her voice softer this time. "You're walking into another trap."
"Probably," he said. "But I can't afford not to."
She studied him for a long moment. "You don't trust anyone, do you?"
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Trust gets you killed."
"And yet you married me."
His lips twitched, not quite a smile. "That wasn't trust. That was strategy."
Her chest tightened, though she didn't know why. "And now?"
He turned away, his voice low. "Now it's survival."
Later that night, Alessia couldn't sleep. The rain had started again, soft against the windows. She wandered through the dark halls until she found herself outside Damian's office. The door was slightly ajar.
He was still awake, sitting behind his desk, a gun disassembled in front of him. His movements were precise, methodical—like a man trying to control the only thing he still could.
For a moment, she just watched him. The weight he carried was visible now, carved into the lines of his face.
"Damian," she said quietly.
He looked up, surprised to see her. "You should be asleep."
"So should you."
He gave a faint shrug. "Sleep doesn't change what's coming."
She stepped inside, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to face it alone."
He studied her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he looked away. "In my world, alone is the only way to survive."
Alessia didn't argue. She just stood there, the silence between them thick with everything neither of them could say.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
And somewhere deep inside the estate, Matteo waited—bleeding, silent, and dangerous.