It was strongly advised that Alex and I not travel in the same car.
As much as I craved his presence beside me, they were right. One vehicle meant one target. If there was an ambush, we couldn't afford to fall together.
So before we stepped off his jet, I let him pull me into a long, lingering kiss. The kind that felt like a promise and a brief goodbye, all at once.
"Be careful," he murmured against my lips.
"You too," I whispered.
Because from this moment on, we were splitting in two different directions.
And if anything went wrong, there would be no reaching for each other this time.
I would head straight into the lion's den, my grandfather's estate, playing the obedient granddaughter, smiling as if I hadn't betrayed him.
Alex would vanish into one of his safe houses somewhere in Sicily. A location I wasn't permitted to know, in case I was ever forced to give it up.
The less I knew, the safer I'd be.
At least, that's what they all believed.
The gates came into view sooner than I was ready for.
I was already in the backseat of my husband's car. My hands folded neatly in my lap, posture composed as if I were simply arriving for Sunday dinner instead of a reckoning. The estate rose in the distance. All stone, iron and old power. It had once felt like home.
Now, it felt like a fortress.
The car slowed as we approached the wrought-iron gates. Guards I had known since childhood stood at attention, their rifles strapped across their chests. Some of them had trained me, carried me on their shoulders when I was small enough to believe this place was safe.
None of them smiled now, as the gates began to open.
I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself as the car rolled forward onto the long gravel drive. Every inch closer tightened something in my chest. Every childhood memory sharpened. The fountain where I used to sit, splashing the water around. The balcony outside my bedroom, overlooking the garden. The towering windows of my grandfather's study.
It was home.
The place that shaped who I am.
By the time the car curved toward the front steps, I had already calmed my expression. Just as I had been trained to do, all these years. If I was walking into a trap, I would do it with my head held high.
Camilla stood at the entrance, armed like she was expecting a siege. A rifle rested steady in her hands, aimed directly at my car. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her sharp eyes scanning through the tinted glass.
Hatred burned there.
Betrayal, too.
Though I caught it flickering, just slightly, when Sergio stepped out of the passenger's seat, smooth and unbothered, like he hadn't just walked into hostile territory. He didn't even spare her a single glance as he rounded the car and opened my door.
The dismissal stung her. I saw it in the tightening of her jaw.
"Don't bother, Camilla," I said evenly as I stepped out, my heels crunching against the gravel. I kept my posture relaxed, controlled. "I'm not stupid enough to attack all of you on your own ground. Especially dressed like this, in heels."
"Well, you never really know, do you?" she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "After all, we do have a traitor in our midst."
The word landed exactly as she intended.
I met her gaze without flinching.
"I'm here to see my grandfather," I said, slowly lifting both hands away from my sides. Not in surrender, but in demonstration. "Nothing more."
The rifle didn't lower.
Neither did her stare.
For a long moment, the only sound between us was the distant rush of the fountain and the quiet hum of the engine cooling behind me.
This wasn't a welcome home.
No, it was a trial.
"Give me one reason I shouldn't put a bullet in you right now," Camilla bit out. "If it were up to me, you'd be dead the second you stepped out of that car."
I held her stare. "Because then you'd be killing the last living descendant of this bloodline," I said evenly. "And you'd be destroying any chance of an alliance with one of the most powerful men in the underworld."
Her grip tightened on the rifle.
"This isn't an alliance and you know it," she hissed. "It's infiltration. You're tearing apart your own family. After everything we've done for you."
A hollow laugh almost escaped me.
"Exactly," I bit out. "After everything they've done to me."
Her brows drew together, confusion flashing across her face. She didn't understand. She couldn't. She had been away on assignment when everything unraveled. All she knew was that I ran. That I came back injured. The same version of the story that had been fed to me. Carefully curated, deliberately incomplete.
We had once trusted each other with everything.
Now, there was an ocean of silence between us.
"Enough."
Arturo's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
He stepped out from behind her, pristine in a dark suit. But he looked older. Thinner. The jacket concealing the sling supporting his injured arm, a quiet reminder of what had happened back in New York.
His gaze settled on me, unreadable.
"Let her in, daughter," he said in Italian, loud enough for everyone to hear.
The rifle didn't lower immediately.
But the doors behind them began to open.
I didn't move an inch. I stood where I was. Heels on the gravel, looking up to the man I used to consider my uncle. My godfather. The one who trained me into this weapon.
"Your grandfather wants to see you," he said in Italian, his tone clipped. "Despite everything I've told him. Don't make him wait."
Despite everything.
The words settled heavily between us.
It could mean anything.
Then he turned and walked inside without another glance.
Camilla lowered her rifle at last. Her eyes flicked past me to Sergio, something unspoken passing across her face before she followed her father through the doors. I didn't know what had happened between them, but it certainly hadn't ended cleanly. Some wounds never do.
"The sooner we finish this," Sergio murmured quietly behind me, "the sooner you can see him again. Be brave."
I swallowed against the tightness in my chest. "I know. Thank you."
Then I forced my feet to move.
Up the steps.
Past the threshold.
Through the doors of the house I once called home.
And into whatever awaited me inside.