My pulse pounded in my ears as silence settled over the room.
No one spoke.
Not Alessio.
Not Matteo.
Not even Zia Maria.
The weight of the photographs seemed to suffocate the air itself.
I stared at the scattered images spread across the table. Some were old. Too old.
One photograph showed me entering my university years ago.
Another captured me sitting in a café with a friend.
A third had been taken outside the orphanage where I had spent part of my childhood.
My stomach twisted.
These weren't random pictures.
They formed a timeline.
A record.
Someone had been watching me for years.
"How is this possible?" I whispered.
No one answered immediately.
Because no one had an answer.
Alessio's jaw tightened.
The dangerous calm in his expression frightened me more than his anger ever could.
"When were these found?" he asked.
Matteo cleared his throat.
"They were hidden in the informant's apartment."
Alessio's gaze darkened.
"The informant is dead."
"Yes."
"So someone cleaned up the mess before we could question him."
The room fell silent again.
I looked down at the final photograph.
Unlike the others, this one wasn't focused on me.
It was focused on a man standing several feet behind me.
The image was blurry.
His face was impossible to identify.
But something about him felt familiar.
A chill crawled down my spine.
"Who is he?" I asked.
Matteo shook his head.
"We don't know."
"But he appears in six different photographs."
My head snapped upward.
"Six?"
Matteo nodded.
"He was always nearby."
A knot formed in my chest.
Always nearby.
Watching.
Waiting.
For what?
Zia Maria moved closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
For the first time, even she looked unsettled.
"Tesoro," she said softly, "do you remember anything unusual from your childhood?"
I frowned.
"My childhood?"
"Anything at all."
I searched my memories.
Most of them were fragmented pieces.
Faces.
Voices.
Places.
Nothing that seemed important.
Then suddenly—
A memory surfaced.
Small.
Insignificant.
Yet somehow impossible to ignore.
"I remember a necklace."
Everyone looked at me.
"A necklace?" Alessio asked.
I nodded slowly.
"I don't know why I remember it. I was very young."
"What kind of necklace?"
I closed my eyes. Trying to picture it.
"It had a crest."
The room froze.
My eyes opened immediately.
Alessio was staring at me.
Matteo looked pale.
Even Zia Maria seemed shocked.
Fear crept into my chest.
"What?"
No one answered.
"Tell me."
Alessio finally spoke.
"What kind of crest?"
I swallowed.
"I don't remember clearly."
His voice remained calm.
Too calm.
"Try."
I focused harder.
A flash of silver.
Black enamel.
A crown.
And beneath it—
A wolf.
The words escaped before I could stop them.
"A wolf."
The reaction was immediate.
Matteo cursed under his breath.
Zia Maria's face drained of color.
And Alessio...
Alessio looked like someone had just confirmed his worst fear.
"What does it mean?" I demanded.
No one spoke.
My anxiety exploded.
"What does it mean?"
Alessio finally lifted his gaze to mine.
The intensity there made my breath catch.
"It means," he said quietly, "this is bigger than we thought."
That wasn't an answer.
I took a step toward him.
"Alessio."
His expression hardened.
"There was once a family."
My heartbeat quickened.
"A powerful family."
Every instinct in my body screamed that I wasn't going to like where this conversation was headed.
"They disappeared almost sixteen years ago."
I stared at him.
"What does that have to do with me?"
His silence terrified me.
"Alessio."
"Their symbol was a wolf."
The room seemed to tilt.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't move.
A wolf.
The necklace.
The photographs.
The dead informant.
Everything suddenly felt connected.
But the connection was impossible.
Completely impossible.
Because there was only one explanation.
And it made no sense.
Slowly, Alessio stepped closer.
His eyes never left mine.
"If someone has been watching you for years..."
My pulse thundered.
"If someone murdered an informant to keep this hidden..."
The room disappeared around us.
There was only him.
Only the terrifying realization growing between us.
Then he spoke the words that shattered everything.
"Adriana..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"What if your past was never lost?"
A cold wave crashed through me.
And for the first time in my life—
I wondered if I had ever truly known who I was.
The room erupted into movement.
Matteo was already issuing orders.
Men reached for their phones.
Weapons were checked.
Routes were discussed.
Yet somehow, amid all the chaos, Alessio's attention remained fixed on me.
As if I were the only thing he could see.
The only thing that mattered.
I crossed my arms.
"You are not sending me away."
A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes.
"We'll discuss that later."
"That's mafia language for I have already decided.'"
Matteo snorted.
Zia Maria tried—and failed—to hide a smile.
Alessio, however, remained completely serious.
"Tesoro."
The single word carried a warning.
I ignored it.
Badly.
"Alessio—"
Before I could continue, his arm slid around my waist.
The movement was effortless.
Possessive.
Certain.
As if there was no force in the world capable of pulling me away from him.
My breath caught.
His gaze lowered to mine.
For a brief second, the cold mask of the Don cracked.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Enough for me to see the fear hidden beneath.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for me.
His hand tightened against my waist.
"Stay close to me."
The words were quiet.
Almost lost beneath the noise around us.
I swallowed.
"You're worried."
His jaw flexed.
A muscle ticking beneath his skin.
Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my forehead.
A simple gesture.
Yet it carried more emotion than a hundred spoken words.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against mine.
"Mia principessa," he murmured.
The nickname sounded different this time.
Less teasing.
More like a promise.
A vow.
His eyes searched my face.
As if reassuring himself that I was still there.
Still safe.
For now.
Then the moment disappeared.
The Don returned.
Cold.
Ruthless.
Deadly.
Alessio straightened and turned toward Matteo.
"Prepare the cars."
His voice sliced through the room.
Immediate silence followed.
"No one leaves formation."
Matteo nodded.
"And double the perimeter security."
"Already done."
Alessio's gaze hardened.
"Do it again."
A chill ran through me.
Because that wasn't the reaction of a man dealing with a simple threat.
It was the reaction of a man preparing for something much worse.
Something he wasn't ready to name.
Something that terrified even him.
And suddenly I understood.
The photographs.
The dead informant.
The attack on the warehouse.
None of it was random.
Someone was getting closer.
And Alessio looked like a man preparing for war.