Chapter Eight
The aftermath of Arturo's death settled like a funeral shroud over the Southside. Smoke still drifted from the smoldering warehouse, curling into the early morning sky like a warning. What was left of the building groaned under the weight of silence and ash.
Alex stood at the edge of the ruins, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the wreckage. His hoodie and jeans were damp with sweat and soot, and his knuckles bore the angry bruises of the fight they barely survived. The stench of burned metal and blood stuck in his nose like a curse.
"He was loyal," Alex muttered. "Arturo didn't deserve to go out like this."
"No, he didn't," Diego said quietly, beside him. "And whoever planted that bomb knew exactly what they were doing. No traces left. Just a signature. And a message."
Alex turned slowly toward him. "A message meant for me."
They both knew it. Arturo's place was secure—off the grid. The only people who knew Alex was hiding there were Diego, Vito… and now, Sophia.
Diego watched him carefully. "You think she set us up?"
"I don't know." Alex's voice was low, rough. "But I know I was followed the moment she left my room. That bomb wasn't random. It was a warning. And I'm starting to believe it came from inside our circle."
Diego let the silence stretch. Then he said, "She saved your life."
Alex turned sharply. "Or she made sure she was there when it was spared."
That was the thing about shadows—they always followed the light. And Sophia Romano? She was too beautiful, too poised, too perfectly timed. Every move she made since arriving had been deliberate.
A screech of tires cut through the quiet. A black sedan pulled up fast. Out stepped Nina Ferraro, high heels clicking across broken concrete. She looked like a blade in human form—flawless, cold, and lethal.
"You're both alive. That's inconvenient for someone," she said dryly. Her eyes swept the destruction. "Jesus."
Alex didn't reply. He was already walking toward her. "Tell me you found something."
She didn't blink. "Two things. First, someone inside the estate gave a burner number access to our private surveillance system. They knew where you were before you did. Second… I found a link between Carlo and Sophia."
Alex froze.
"She was listed as a consultant on the Venetti Project. A shell real estate firm Carlo managed offshore. But the funds? They were moved through Russo channels six months ago."
Diego let out a sharp breath. "So she was working with Carlo. And the Russos?"
Nina nodded grimly. "Which means either she's a pawn… or a player."
Alex's stomach turned.
"Where is she now?"
Nina lifted a brow. "Still inside the estate. Meeting with your father."
Alex didn't wait.
The Morano estate loomed like a fortress. Security was doubled. Every corridor was thick with tension. As Alex stormed through the marble hallways, staff cleared a path without a word. They saw the look in his eyes—violence waiting for permission.
He found them in the study. Vito Morano behind his desk, stone-faced. Sophia was seated across from him, calm as still water.
She rose when she saw Alex, her expression unreadable.
"You're alive," she said.
"Surprised?" he asked.
"Relieved."
He stared at her hard. "You were the last person who knew where I was. Hours later, Arturo's dead."
Her eyes flickered—but not with guilt. With something colder.
"I warned you. You chose not to listen."
Vito's voice cut between them like a knife. "Enough."
Alex turned to him. "She's not who she says she is. Carlo worked with her. The Russos funded it. You want to explain that, Sophia?"
Sophia stepped forward, chin high. "You think I wanted Carlo dead? He was my ally. He protected me."
"From what?"
She hesitated. Then, quietly: "From your family."
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
Alex blinked. "What?"
Vito stood slowly, his face unreadable. "Sophia's father was Salvatore Romano. He ran contracts for the Vitali family. Until he was executed—on my orders."
The words hit like bullets.
"She was a child," Vito continued. "We let her live. Carlo placed her in foster care overseas. He monitored her. Made sure she didn't come back with blood in her eyes."
Sophia's gaze never left Alex. "But I did. I came back with questions."
"And what have you found?" Alex asked bitterly.
Her voice dropped. "That nothing in your world is simple. Not even revenge."
The Morano estate loomed like a fortress. Security was doubled. Every corridor was thick with tension. As Alex stormed through the marble hallways, staff cleared a path without a word. They saw the look in his eyes—violence waiting for permission.
He found them in the study. Vito Morano behind his desk, stone-faced. Sophia was seated across from him, calm as still water.
She rose when she saw Alex, her expression unreadable.
"You're alive," she said.
"Surprised?" he asked.
"Relieved."
He stared at her hard. "You were the last person who knew where I was. Hours later, Arturo's dead."
Her eyes flickered—but not with guilt. With something colder.
"I warned you. You chose not to listen."
Vito's voice cut between them like a knife. "Enough."
Alex turned to him. "She's not who she says she is. Carlo worked with her. The Russos funded it. You want to explain that, Sophia?"
Sophia stepped forward, chin high. "You think I wanted Carlo dead? He was my ally. He protected me."
"From what?"
She hesitated. Then, quietly: "From your family."
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
Alex blinked. "What?"
Vito stood slowly, his face unreadable. "Sophia's father was Salvatore Romano. He ran contracts for the Vitali family. Until he was executed—on my orders."
The words hit like bullets.
"She was a child," Vito continued. "We let her live. Carlo placed her in foster care overseas. He monitored her. Made sure she didn't come back with blood in her eyes."
Sophia's gaze never left Alex. "But I did. I came back with questions."
"And what have you found?" Alex asked bitterly.
Her voice dropped. "That nothing in your world is simple. Not even revenge."
Later, Alex sat alone in the family chapel—staring at the flickering candles, and the stained-glass saints who watched without judgment. The weight of truth pressed on his shoulders.
Sophia hadn't denied her ties. She hadn't denied anything.
And yet—she hadn't betrayed him either. Not yet.
Diego entered quietly, taking a seat beside him.
"She's not our enemy. Not yet," Alex said softly.
"No," Diego agreed. "But she's not innocent either."
Alex stared at the altar.
"That makes two of us."
Outside, thunder rolled. And in the distance, war brewed.