23. Alessia
ALESSIA
I walk into the lab trying to act like everything is normal.
I sit at my station and start logging slides, but my nerves are shot.
Every time the door opens, I brace myself.
It feels like they're coming to get me, and I panic.
I keep expecting someone to call my name, to say they're here to arrest me. I force myself to keep working through the morning, reviewing chain-of-custody logs. I go through the motions because I have to, even though my hands aren’t steady.
Rory walked me in this morning and didn’t say a word about why Enzo wasn't around or why suddenly, he was right beside me instead of trailing behind me at a distance.
And his silence said more than anything he could warn me about.
I got the feeling he wasn't happy about his job of walking me to work, but I didn't ask.
I haven’t heard from Enzo since the message now more than twenty-four hours ago. He told me to wait, so I’m waiting. But I’m barely holding it together.
When the elevator chimes just past noon, I know something’s wrong.
There’s a shift in the room—it's subtle, but I feel everyone tense, even Dr. Bernardi. I glance up, already dreading what I’ll see, and Detective Sergeant Elena Greco walks in like she owns the place.
Her hair is perfectly done, every strand in place like it was just set by a stylist. She wears a slate-gray suit and carries no trace of a smile.
Her badge is clipped high, and she crosses the lab with her eyes focused on me.
She doesn’t greet anyone, and Dr. Bernardi hardly looks up from his computer. Her presence alone does the talking. It clears the space around her like she’s radioactive. If shadows could run away, I'm sure they would.
"Ms. Leone," she says evenly, stopping two feet from my bench. Her eyes scan the room once before settling back on me. She’s already decided no one else in this room is of significance.
"A moment." She tilts her head toward the hallway, expecting obedience without needing to raise her voice.
That badge tells me I don't have a choice, so I sigh and push my stool back slowly and follow her down the hall without a word.
My pulse is thready, hand perched over the outside of my pocket where I can feel it vibrate if I get a notification. I want to call Enzo, but clearly, now isn't the time. She doesn’t speak until we’re in one of the unused conference rooms, the door clicking softly behind us.
"We’ve reviewed your case notes, every revision we’ve tracked so far." She remains standing, arms loosely crossed. Her stance makes it clear that she thinks this is a formality. That simply by showing up here with her badge on display, I will do whatever she wants.
I hold my neutral expression despite wanting to run away scared. "Then you know there’s nothing conclusive yet." Steadying my voice, I place both hands at my sides to keep them steady, wiggling my fingers so they stop shaking.
She studies me like I’m a puzzle as her eyes rake over my face "There’s plenty—enough to build out a timeline, evidence of foul play, and a link to the Costa operation directly.
" Her words are clipped and precise. She’s not trying to persuade me at all because she thinks she knows everything.
But the only way she'd know the facts is if I reported them, and I haven't.
And no one else has touched that body but me.
My arms stay rigid at my sides as I study her face. Her lips flatten at the end of each statement like punctuation, her weight shifting slightly from heel to heel. She stays perfectly measured—the way a good detective should. She’s already decided how this ends, and nothing I say will change it.
"Let me be clear," she continues. "I'm not here to pressure you the way Dr. Bernardi would. I'm here to tell you the facts. If you don’t submit a final report by tomorrow, we’ll proceed with obstruction.
" She touches her badge lightly like it needs to be straightened.
The gesture is intentional, meant to signal authority rather than invite discussion.
My chest feels too tight in my blouse. I shift my weight and fold my arms. The move makes me feel safer, but I know I'm withdrawing.
"I haven’t completed the tox panel rerun." I draw a shallow breath, trying not to show how cornered I feel.
She lifts her brows, unimpressed. "That’s not what your timestamped data shows. You’re stalling. And I know why." Her voice tightens slightly. She sounds like she’s tired of pretending we’re both professionals here.
I meet her gaze without blinking. "Then you should also know that tampering allegations go both ways." I meet her gaze without flinching, spine straight, though my stomach twists with the lie. No one has been tampering except me, and my words are baseless accusations, but I feel trapped.
Elena smiles faintly, but there’s nothing warm behind it.
"You think you’re protecting your father.
I get it. Loyalty’s a complicated thing.
But when the indictments come down, you're not the one they’ll offer a deal to.
He is." She speaks slower now, enunciating every word with careful intent, as if she wants me to remember them all.
"He has the Costa secrets and you're dispensable.
Be smart, Leone. Don't throw away your career for this. "
I feel the burn rising under my skin that makes it difficult to swallow. Fire boils in my blood, anger bubbling so deep in my chest and gut, I almost can't stop the screech of rage that demands to leap out of my throat in her direction.
She steps closer in a threatening move, but her tone is calm. Still, it leaves no room for negotiation. She’s delivering a threat, not offering a warning. "Cooperate and survive, Dr. Costa. Or go down with him."
Greco turns toward the door and opens it. With a quick glance back at me to throw one more set of fiery daggers at me, she steps out and lets the door shut behind her.
I don’t move for a full thirty seconds. My pulse is so loud it drowns out the air conditioning overhead. I stop thinking altogether. My body moves on autopilot. I walk fast, but not toward my bench. I head for the service stairwell at the end of the corridor and push the door open, stepping out.
The stairwell is completely empty, silent except for the faint echo of the door behind me.
The air is cooler than the rest of the building, cutting against my skin and making it harder to breathe.
I sit hard on the concrete step and bury my face in my hands, but no tears come, even though my body feels like it’s collapsing inward.
All I feel is pressure building in my chest, too much to contain. I can’t find a way to release it.
I fold forward, elbows on knees, and try to breathe through it. I try to calm myself, but it isn’t working. It won’t work—not with everything closing in and no relief in sight. I don’t have time to fall apart, but I stay frozen, unable to pull myself back together or stand up again.
I can’t stay here. If I do, Bernardi will find another excuse to corner me, and I won’t have anything left to give. I push myself up and slip out through the rear exit without signing out. The hallway’s quiet, and I keep my head down and move fast.
Outside, Rory’s leaning against the side of a black car, arms crossed. He straightens as soon as he sees me.
“I need to see Enzo,” I say, pulling my suitcoat tighter around myself. “Right now.”
He watches me for a second, then mutters, "You know he won't like that," as he turns and starts walking.
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion. Besides, I've been more than patient.” I'm not backing down. This man will take me to Enzo or I'll scream until he does.
He huffs. “You think you’re the first person to blow up their entire life for that man?” He shakes his head as he pulls his phone out and starts texting someone.
“I'm not blowing my life up!” I snap. “I’m trying to stop it from burning to the ground.” My throat feels like a boa constrictor is wrapped around it.
He glances sideways at me. “Honey…” His eyes roll, and I tense but I don't back down.
I shoot him a look. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Ignoring me, he continues texting and says, “I told him you were coming. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And when he starts walking, I follow without hesitation, though I glance over my shoulder several times to make sure Greco didn't spot me and follow us too.
We round the corner to a parking garage entrance. Rory nods toward a spot tucked behind a concrete column, where a dark car sits with its lights off. He doesn’t walk me all the way there, just jerks his head and says, "He’s waiting."
Then he turns and walks away without looking back.
I approach the car slowly. Enzo’s in the driver’s seat, windows cracked, engine off. His posture is still, his eyes fixed straight ahead. When I reach the door, he doesn’t move, but I know he sees me. I pull the handle and slide into the passenger seat.
Rory disappears, leaving us alone, but I don't feel like this is private enough for what I need to say to him. Somehow, it feels too exposed, like the walls have eyes and the instant I finally say what needs to be said, they will close in and I'll be dragged off to prison.
"It's time," I tell him, and he finally looks at me.
"I'm glad you realize that, Lessi. Because we're out of time." Enzo reaches for my hand. "But I have a plan. I just have a few things to handle first."
"You can protect me?" My chest is hammering. I'm about to do something I never thought I would ever be reduced to. Breaking the law is what my father and uncle and cousins do. It's not me. I walked away from the life my father wanted for me, and even though I was free, it sucked me back in anyway.
"Only if you trust me," he says, and I lean in, feeling too much pressure in my chest to do anything but cling to him.